


The Morning Rain

by hoolihoops



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, UA, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoolihoops/pseuds/hoolihoops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Universe alternation from 8x01.<br/>When Dean and Castiel return from Purgatory and find Sam, Sam informs them of a hunt that had been growing considerably whilst the pair had gone. Upon travelling across country to their destination, whilst continuing the family business of 'saving people, hunting things', Dean and Castiel's relationship develops. But Dean soon experiences certain 'dreams' which throws his perception of reality off balance, leaving him to ask the question: what is real and what is not?<br/>(Formerly Blood and Dreams)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A blinding flash of intense, pure white light and it was all over.

The portal vanished the second the hunter and the angel stumbled out of the monstrous gateway to Purgatory; finding themselves in a grassy clearing somewhere in the middle of Maine’s hundreds of miles of wilderness. Dense vegetation surrounded the two hunched predators, swallowing them in complete darkness. The small, bright moon overhead did little to help penetrate the shadows, with just slits of dim light slicing through the minute gaps in the towering conifers. The sky was peppered with small, barely visible luminous dots, too small and too far away to be the stars Dean had been praying to during the first few months in Purgatory, praying for Cas’s return, praying to keep going, praying to find Cas alive and well.  The two breathed deeply; Dean dipping down, placing his hands above his knees and arching his back over. With the most recent nightmare put finally behind him, Dean straightened up to full height to scour his immediate surroundings with wide eyes; his face hard and expressionless. Dean’s gaze soon found its way to his companion, who appeared to be as tattered as bloody and as tired as he was.

It was all over. And they knew it.

Castiel’s brilliant blue eyes, which showed to be even more prominent against the dark crusted dirt and blood that swarmed over his face like a disease, stared at Dean in grim conclusiveness.

They had done it.

Castiel nodded slowly and his eyes softened. Dean double-checked the area and turned to face his friend. Throwing his prehistoric-looking weapon to the floor, Dean’s firmly pursed lips cracked into a wide toothy grin as his friend tilted his head to the side and smiled too, the corners of his eyes crinkling with happiness.

“We did it!” Dean sighed happily, throwing his arms out and walking towards Castiel to pull him in for a tight embrace. Though still rigid and stiff from the hells of Purgatory, Castiel closed his eyes and clenched his hands into tight balls by his side as Dean wrapped his arms around him. Dean pulled away, slapped Castiel on the arm playfully and they both smiled warmly at one another. Dean, bringing his fist up to his mouth and clearing his throat, looked the angel up and down. His friend had grown a significant amount of ‘peach fuzz’ during his time in Purgatory and his eyes looked the most tired Dean had even seen them. Misery oozed from every inch of Cas’s appearance; his beloved trench coat was torn, stained and faded. His tightly clenched hands were stained with blood, dirt and God knew what else, much like his face, shirt and shoes. Castiel’s fingernails collected a thick lining of black and the whole of him looked beaten, bruised and bloody. The hem of his pant legs had torn and tears and threads of fabric clung desperately to the edges. Castiel remained quiet and although his appearance made him seem defeated, his aura radiated contentment. He was glad to be back on earth. Alive. With Dean.

As Dean opened his mouth to speak, a sharp, sudden burst of pain surged over his arm. He grimaced, groaned and gripped his wrist tightly. Castiel’s brows narrowed in concern.

“Best go sort this one out.” Dean hissed through his teeth as he massaged a glowing growth under his shirt. Raising his head, Dean squinted in his grimace as he searched the surroundings.

First things first, they needed a way out.

“Any ideas?” Dean asked, turning his head towards Cas.

Castiel moved his head with his gaze as he slowly scanned the surrounding forest for any sign of exit or, at the very least, something which held hope. Less than a split second later, Castiel nodded his head in a direction behind his friend and marched towards the dimly illuminated white tent in the far distance.

“This way.” His rich, gruff voice declared.

Dean turned around, shook his arm and followed obediently, just after remembering to pick up his cherished medal from Purgatory; he wasn’t losing that for the world. The ‘Purgatory blade’ had gotten Dean through countless beheadings and aided the hunter out of numerous occasions where, without it, he would have died, or would have suffered something not nearly as sweet as death. As savage and as primeval as it looked, he wasn’t letting it go. Ever. He had grown attached to it even from the first moment he acquired it from the one of many vampires he slaughtered. It was then, when Dean realized how effective that the weapon could be, that he decided he would keep it. To him, it represented survival, strength and the ultimate triumph of returning from Purgatory.

The two men snaked through the maze of undergrowth and pursued their inanimate prey within minutes, ensuring complete silence when they stalked the edge of the small clearing where the tent was neatly positioned. Rustling through the large bushes surrounding the tent, their eyes scoped the area as Dean tried to conjure a plan. The clearing was relatively small in size, contained a few rocks, a large boulder, one or two shrubs and a thinning amount of grass. A campfire sat close to the tent, in a patch where the grass was almost non-existent, with a beaten looking pot and a stand beside it. Other pieces of camping gear, which were undistinguishable in the poor light, laid around haphazardly, collected together in small bundles by several small blocks of wood or the tent’s entrance. A small pool of moonlight shone down onto the tent and the immediate area; the white light reflecting off the tent and causing the living quarters to seem like a sanctuary.

Suddenly, a young man, no more than 18, appeared from the tent bearing a flashlight. Castiel and Dean squatted close in the neighboring shrubbery. The young male was tall, slim and feeble looking.

“Hello?” The boy called, stepping a few paces outside of the tent, outside of safety. “Hello?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed slightly and his brow crinkled as he eyed up the potential threat. The stranger wasn’t armed, besides the large, heavy flashlight, and he didn’t look as though he could punch a pillow let alone punch a _man_. The young man’s nervous and frightened expression suddenly became apparent to Dean as he stepped into the moonlight. The guy was harmless.  Dean signaled two fingers in a jerky fashion to his partner, indicating to stalk around the perimeter, to stay hidden but to stay close. Castiel remained concealed in the bushes whilst Dean positioned himself to pounce out at the unsuspecting victim at the given chance.

“Oh, it was a deer.” The boy incorrectly informed the tent. “It was like; it was like I don’t know a deer or something… woah!”

As the man turned back around to confirm his thoughts, he stumbled backwards in shock as, to his surprise; he was met with a large, filthy stranger. The whole of him; his brown leather jacket, his scruffy jeans and his dirt-ridden boots, looked worn, beaten and faded. Dean stood directly in front of him, a couple of paces away out of the moonlight. He was poised with his legs spaced equally apart, one foot in front of the other, with the brutal Purgatory-blade gripped tightly between his fist of his left hand. He retained a stern, fierce expression solid on his blood-stained face. The young man’s eyes widened in terror, the first impression was that he had been attacked by a bear - and won by the looks of it. That, or he had been through hell.

“Where am I?” Dean barked. The male, blinking furiously and backing up clumsily whilst his mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, pointed the flashlight at the threatening figure rooted firmly into the ground. Unexpectedly, a young girl with masses of curly, dark brown hair emerged from the tent, giving out a squeak in fear as she spotted the dangerous stranger. In sudden impulse, Dean retracted his gun from its holster and pointed it bluntly at the girl, then to the couple as she scurried behind the young man, whilst his eyes widened and eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, hey, hey!” The man gushed, words desperately fumbling over his lips as he threw forward an extended arm, open palm facing the predator. Suddenly, whilst keeping the gun aimed at the couple, Dean violently twitched the Purgatory Blade forward, in a scooping motion, twice. Castiel appeared next to Dean almost instantaneously, running out from the bushes. The young woman screamed at the sight of the other threatening figure and gripped onto the young male’s shoulders in alarm, pulling him backwards and throwing him off balance. Castiel rolled his shoulders back, one after the other, puffed out his chest and glared intensely at the two under his brow, tipping his forehead slightly towards the couple, almost as an animal would when hunting prey.

“Where’s the road?” Dean shouted as he jeered his gun forward towards the couple.

“12 miles, that way!” The young man replied, quickly, pointing a trembling finger and flashing a quick glance into the distance. Dean’s eyes cautiously averted from the couple momentarily to glance at the direction. Dean’s fingers flickered impatiently around the butt of the gun as his eyes wandered quickly down to his right, under his arm then to the floor in front of him. A rucksack. He looked up at the couple who were nervously waiting on his actions.

“Cas.” Dean muttered under his breath, not breaking the eye contact with his victims. Castiel leaned in to Dean’s whisper. “Grab the bag and run. After 3; 1…”

Immediately, Castiel dived for the rucksack, scooped it up and disappeared in one swift movement, sprinting past the couple. In response, the young man flinched and gripped hold of the girl’s hand tightly. Dean stood in front of the stunned pair with his eyes wide and forehead crinkled in shock. It always surprised him how fast Cas could run. The ferocious hunter shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. The trees rustled quietly. His fingers flickered on the butt of the gun again. Eventually, he ducked and ran after Castiel; leaving the startled couple clutching hold of one another in silence.

**

It took 4 days worth of tiresome walking and hitchhiking, with minimal conversation, for the pair to reach their desired destination; Clayton, Louisiana. What was there left to be discussed between two souls that had experienced the same amount of pain and grief in the last year? Reflecting on the past was not something Dean did lightly; the same could be said for Castiel. Cas couldn’t talk about heaven since it just riddled him with guilt. And Dean couldn’t talk about Sam because he didn’t even know if his little brother was still alive. Other than what lay ahead, Purgatory was still fresh in their minds and neither wanted to discuss what they had been through. They had been through enough, Dean said. And Castiel left it at that. They trudged onwards, thinking forward and of nothing else. So the silence was bearable. It was somewhat comforting for the two to just walk together without the threat of constantly being hunted or pursued by something that wanted their skins.

The burnt orange pick-up truck pulled to a stop on a dusty, dry crossroads in Clayton. They were miles away from the closest town and it looked like the area hadn’t seen water in years. The passenger door opened slowly. Dean jumped out, his boots landing hard on the dusty ground, and swung the rucksack over his right shoulder. Leaning in through the open window, he nodded a thanks to the driver and tapped the top of the car door with finality then walked round to the bed of the truck, where Cas swiftly climbed out of. With ease, Cas rose, sat on the edge furthest Dean, swung his legs round and landed gracefully on his feet. Cas walked round the back of the truck and stood in front of Dean, looking at him with amused expectancy. Dean’s eyebrows flashed and a surprised frown played across his face before he firmly grabbed the angel’s shoulder and shook it affectionately.

“Not long left now, buddy.”

The two walked around to the front of the car and set on their way as Dean waved the driver off, with a simple raised hand. A crunching of tires, a billowing of dust and gravel and their ride was gone. It was only by foot from now. The sun beat down on the pair as they started their walk. It took a while before vegetation appeared again. Their dusty, barren drop off was gradually replaced by the odd withering tree, the thin, weak looking bush and a few patches of yellowing grass but soon the area was blooming with great patches of green, with tall and wild oaks; their branches folding over the path of the weary travelers, blanketing them with a cool continuous tunnel of shadows. The further Dean and Castiel walked, the more feral the foliage became. Shrubbery creeped into the road and distorted the edges of the path. Weeds snaked across the uneven terrain and sprung up in arbitrary places. Trees that had fallen balanced precariously on the stable ones, with their arms a wild mesh, clinging on desperately to one another.

As night fell and the moon climbed higher and higher into the sky, Dean’s thick boots felt thin for the first time in as long as he could remember as they continued walking. He noticed how the pain in his arm considerably increased as they came nearer to the end of their journey.

The two ducked their heads to avoid another fallen trunk and turned left at a T-junction of the pathway. Dean checked his watch; their trek had come to almost three hours. Avoiding more untamed shrubbery and fallen trees, the travelers soon reached their finishing line when, to their right, the trees disappeared into a large clearing; a great, old wind mill standing in the middle. The area was fenced off with two stone pillars that stood either side of the entrance to the grassy area. A corroded plaque was placed on the closest of the pillars; the writing barely legible. Dean stopped at the pillar, looked down and, with difficulty, read: “LAFITTE”.

Castiel stood at the entrance, staring up at the giant wooden monument. He turned to face Dean as the hunter strolled past and marched up to the old windmill. As Dean knelt down on the grass and removed a foldable camping shovel from the rucksack, Cas entered the clearing and stood a few paces away, looking around at his surroundings vigilantly. Dean rested the rucksack against one of the legs of the windmill, straightened up and stepped 5 paces forward, thrusting his heel into the soft ground with a frown as he stopped.

“This better be you, you son of a bitch.” He muttered gravely.

With a grunt, Dean thrust the small shovel into the ground and began digging. Castiel watched intently over his shoulder as he moved a few paces closer, all the while remaining fixed on surveying their immediate vicinity; watching and listening for any sudden movements or unexplainable sounds. Neither one of them took any notice of the time, but Dean hazarded a guess at around 3-4 hours before he finally dug enough to completely clear the grave and reveal a skeleton, the bones of which looked as though the body hadn’t been carefully placed on burial.

“All right.” Dean sighed in achievement, hauling himself up to sit on the side of the grave. Cas walked over to observe the bones just as a wave of pain surged over Dean’s arm, more intense now than it ever had been over the past days. Dean grimaced, gripping tight onto his arm, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. With concern, Cas helped Dean to his feet, taking him gently under the arm of his good limb and hauling him up. Dean muttered his thanks and took a step forward towards the grave.

“Hold on, you bastard!” Dean shouted as he clawed at the buttons on his sleeve, rolling it up past his elbow to reveal the pulsing, glowing red growth. “Hold on!” The hunter slowly removed a knife from his belt and, shifting his weight uneasily from foot to foot, eyed up the bulge with a frown. With his arm held over the grave and his hand clenched tightly into a fist, he slowly brought the knife down and sliced into his arm.

“Anima corpori…” Dean started with his voice gruff and deep as he watched the red growth start moving frantically, almost bubbling inside of him, twisting and turning as a crimson liquid oozed from the cut and fell onto the bones. “Fuerit corpus... totem resurgent.”

With an extensive groan, Dean’s face contorted into an expression of complete pain, one Cas had only seen a handful of times, as his chin dipped into his chest and he gritted his teeth.

“Dean?” Castiel worried, stepping closer towards him.

“I’m fine. It’s fine, Cas.” Dean barked, removing his grip on his arm to wave away Cas’s concern; as to signify not to come any closer.

The growth started to reduce in size and the brightness faded as the bones started to ignite streaks of light, red and white in color, sending loud crackling sounds through the silence of the wilderness. Dean had little time between clenching his jaw in agony, squeezing his eyes shut and falling to his knees, landing on his side as his body tensed and legs gave out. Castiel was soon by his side, helping him to sit up as the pain faded. Dean sat on the soft mud with his legs splayed out, panting.

“Wow…” he wheezed, using Cas’s shoulder as a support to stand. He breathed in heavily and coughed into his fist as he turned to face Cas, his friend’s eyes wide with distress. But it wasn’t Cas Dean looked at as he stood and Cas saw the expression change instantly from pain to amused surprise.

 “Wow, that was fast.”

Cas turned around to spot a familiar face, though looking a lot cleaner and tidier the last time they met. The blood stains and wounds had disappeared completely from his face and neck, his clothes were spotless and his white shirt was tucked neatly into his trousers. His black coat was no longer ripped or torn or covered in blood and his hands were clean. There wasn’t a single mark of Purgatory left on him.

“No thanks to you.” The man’s voice was rich and deep; a thick Louisianan accent lilting his every word. “The hell took you so long?”

Dean, gripping hold of his left arm, walked in front of Castiel towards the familiar friend.

“You’re welcome.” He retorted, raising his eyebrows and jerking his chin up towards the man, who glanced over at Castiel.

“I see you got your feathery friend outta there too?”

Dean momentarily looked back to Cas, who stood solemnly and still. He nodded.

“Didn’t think it’d work.” Continued the Louisianan man.

“Neither did I really.” Dean replied, ticking his head to the side, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“I am still here.” Castiel interjected, stepping forward a pace to reassert his authority. The man smiled slyly before cracking his neck.

“Everything working?” Dean asked, rubbing the wound on his arm tenderly as he scanned his eyes up and down the man.

“Good enough.” He replied, lifting his chin up slightly and baring his teeth. Suddenly, a set of fangs pierced through his gums and sat upon his teeth. Closing his mouth as he retracted them, he lowered his head and looked back at Dean.

“So…” he sighed, glancing over his shoulder. “What now?”

“Like we talked about, I guess.” Dean replied, shaking his head slightly.

The man nodded slowly, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Then, this is goodbye.” He stated, gently lifting his head until his eyes found Dean’s again. The two exchanged a meaningful gaze as they reminisced. Dean’s mouth was closed firmly with his brow dipped.

“You keep your nose clean, Benny. You hear me?”

Benny nodded firmly and walked towards Dean with his arm extended. His gait was long and took him no more than two paces to reach his friend. Dean shook it tightly.

“We made it, brother.” Benny said. “I can’t believe it.”

He laughed heartily and pulled Dean, who was smiling broadly, in for a close hug.

“You and me both.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS WHERE IT GETS SERIOUS forget chapter 1 that piece of shit was just a warm up   
> this is the real deal now bitches strap yourself in

With a flutter of wings, Dean and Castiel appeared in Whitefish, Montana; a few yards away from Rufus’s cabin. Dean steadied himself and flashed his eyes open. Castiel slowly removed two fingers from Dean’s left temple and placed his arms by his side, moving his gaze slowly from Dean to the log cabin as he turned himself away from his friend to face head on with Rufus’s cabin. After the hunter acclimatized himself to his surroundings and shook off the sudden wash of sickness that came with ‘zapping’, he nodded sharply.

“If he’d be anywhere, he’d be here.”

The log cabin stood alone in the middle of a vast area of grass which was dotted with thin, eerie grove trees - appearing more like tall twigs thrust into the ground - and large, untamed bushes. The hunter and the angel stood on the opposite side of the narrow road, which stretched out far to the left and to the right of the hut, made solely from the years of tires that wore away the grass. Hundreds of abandoned twigs lay about pointlessly, whilst grass grew tall and glittered in the moonlight.

The cabin itself was fairly small at first glance, made completely from dark wood. A blanket of ivy settled on the porch roof that shadowed the unlit windows and hard dark door. The place looked empty, deserted and black, blacker than the night that surrounded them. A single naked cedar tree, positioned untidily to the right of the house, sheltered a familiar object. Moonlight gleamed and danced off the Impala’s hood as Dean’s eyes travelled slowly around his environment and recognized her. His eyes lit up.

“There’s my baby!” He cried in happiness, throwing his arms out to his side as if to embrace the car. Sam was definitely here then. Dean took a few steps forward to cross the road when a sudden surge of sickness heaved in his stomach; he lurched forward, placed his hands above his knees and breathed out deeply through his mouth.

“Damn it, I hate it when you zap us around.” Dean groaned. Castiel approached him and stood next to his friend looking up at the cabin, then down to Dean, who had begun to breathe heavily in through his nose and out through his mouth, a steady rhythm which Dean had adopted to calm his nerves, stomach and just about everything. It never worked, but he always looked forward to the day where it would finally have an effect.

“It’s the fastest way to travel and you wanted to find Sam as quick as-” Castiel started, formally.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Dean interrupted. With a long exhalation, he slowly straightened himself to full height, leaning his head back slightly as he swallowed away the sickness. “We could have hitchhiked you know; would have taken us two days tops.”

“Or two _seconds_ my way.” Cas retorted, playfully ticking his head to the side whilst still continuing eye contact. Dean had noticed how fond Cas was of eye contact.

Dean wished that Cas’s ‘angel juices’ were still drained so that they could have hitchhiked, just as they did when they restored Benny’s soul to his bones. The portal affected the pair more than just fatigue and drained Cas’s abilities considerably. But after hiking out of the Maine wilderness, travelling for four days to Louisiana to reach Benny’s body and complete their side of the deal, Castiel’s powers had soon returned to full capacity. It seemed foolish to Cas to travel all that way and take all that time to get to Sam, when they could be there instantaneously. Human’s way of travel were boring, slow and laborious. Dean, obviously, didn’t share the same view.

“Let’s just get Sam, okay?” Dean said brusquely, marching towards the car. Cas watched him with a smirk.

Dean approached his beloved car and ducked his head down to look in through the front window. No mess, no iPod jack… good. He straightened himself up to full height and looked over her favorably. She had been kept in good condition, kept clean and tidy on the outside and smooth and sleek on the outside; just how he remembered.

Cas tramped across the dirt that lead up to the cabin and stepped up to the front door. He stood and waited for Dean, turning round and facing him. The hunter patted the hood of the car as he walked around it and slowly approached the cabin, snaking round to the windows; he squinted as he tried to distinguish if anyone was home, desperately trying hard to look past the red sigil painted on the glass and the thin white net that obscured his view. Castiel tried the door handle and the door opened slowly and quietly, letting out a single ‘click’ as it unlocked.

Dean’s head snapped round to the sound and he looked at Cas who exchanged the glance. The hunter walked round and took the first few soft steps into the cabin; Castiel following close behind.

The first thing that struck the couple about the cabin was the sheer number of papers that were pinned to almost every area of each wall in the main room; images of footage from security cameras, entries from books, scribbles and scrawls on slips of paper, maps of different states, everything that gave off an impression of a serious investigation.

Dean’s heart lifted.

Sam had looked for him.

To the left of the front door, Dean walked round to observe a giant map of their country with several pins slammed into different places, some of one color and some of another. Curiously, a path of yellow pins, that lead down the east coast of America, were joined together with string. Another set of pins, this time tightly bundled together, were stuck in the central area. Several stray pins, all of the same but different color to the rest, were dotted about hopelessly on the map.

Dean noticed the fireplace, which stood front and center at the back of the cabin in the raised area where they slept, was unlit; as was the chandelier that hung majestically in the main room. The only light in the cabin was coming from a small lamp that was placed in the kitchen just next to the stove and the moonlight that spilled in through the windows. Empty bottles of beer, plastic fast food containers and several more heaps of papers and photographs littered the room. The door to the basement on the right hand side of the room was shut firmly.

Castiel walked in cautiously, noticing the sheer disorder which swamped the room. While Dean was examining the map, Cas walked round to the right of the main room and into the kitchen area, passing the small round wooden table which had accumulated two large duffle bags, which - as Castiel correctly remembered - rightfully belonged in the trunk of the Impala. Cas traced his hand across the countertop as he walked and reminisced on the last time he was here. Back when he was ‘broken’, or even more broken than he was now, back when he wore the funny white shirt and white trousers teamed with his dearly loved trench coat, back with Meg. He wandered what had become of her when they disappeared to Purgatory.

Suddenly, he noticed a pot of beans simmering away gently on the stove. Cas lifted his head up and looked towards Dean, who was already watching him, and nodded.

He was here.

“Sam?” Dean called, moving about the room cautiously. “Sammy?”

As Castiel sauntered up the two steps to the sleeping quarters and saw that the bed was empty; but the covers indicated that it had clearly been slept in. Dean cautiously walked through the archway to the left and looked towards the bathroom door to his right. He turned, took a few paces forward and looked down at the dimly lit stairs. Suddenly, out of the shadows behind him, he heard the click of a gun. Instead of pulling his gun from his belt, Dean raised his hands slowly to his head. At the sound Castiel darted round and stood a couple of paces from the archway, watching Dean move into full view in front of the entrance.

Dean turned around to see Sam, gun solidly gripped between his right hand with his left hand supported underneath, slowly creep from the darkness. His hair had grown considerably longer, now just resting above his shoulders, parted in the middle and scraped back out of his face, held in place with the sweat he had accumulated from days without a shower. It was tangled, rugged and shabby and was in desperate need of a trim or at least some sort of care. Added to the scruffiness of his hair, a five o’clock shadow had formed around Sam’s chin, upper lip and sides.

His brother’s eyes were wide and wild, fierce and piercing with his brow dipped low and nostrils flared. He looked at Dean with pure aggression and Dean knew that Sam didn’t think it was him. He had every right not to believe so. Sam had one foot placed in front of the other, prepared to shoot if necessary. Sammy’s whole expression was crazed, desperate and worried but he could see, even behind all that aggression and fear and determination, was hope.

Sam had always had hope.

And Dean could see it, just a glimpse right behind his eyes, but it was there.

His heart ached with the state his little brother had spiraled into, it was the worse he had ever seen him. Sam’s top lip twitched as he parted his mouth to speak.

“Sam… put the gun down, it’s me.” Dean said softly, gesturing his hands out to the side as he dipped his head down and looked up at Sam from under his brow.

“Move.” Sam spat, his gun twitching to the side and gesturing for Dean to leave the room. Dean slowly walked out from the side room and into the main room and stood next to Cas, who took a step forward in front of the hunter in protection as Sam came round into the light, who jumped slightly, startled to see the angel. He was clearly on edge. Sam, in instinct, pointed the gun at Cas then to Dean, flicking it between the two. Immediately, Dean grabbed Cas’s arm and pulled him back to his side.

“It’s okay, Cas. Just let me handle it.” He said quietly under his breath, leaning his head towards Cas but keeping his face forward to Sam. Dean raised his hands again, backed up to stand next to the dining table and Cas copied, mirroring Dean’s movement exactly.

“Sam, come on. Put the gun down. It’s okay, Sammy. It’s us.”

“Prove it.” Sam ordered, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his aim wavering.

Dean looked down at the duffle bags on the small wooden table and, gesturing a hand out towards Sam; he lowered his right hand to unzip the bag and then brought the other down to steady the zip. Alternating his gaze between his little brother and the duffle bags, he removed a flask of holy water and a large plastic bottle of a soapy, creamy liquid from the back then rested them on the table. The oldest brother took a mouthful of holy water, swallowing it down and sighing through his teeth. He hadn’t had a drink of water in a long while. He then handed it to Cas who raised the flask to his lips and didn’t remove it until it was almost empty. Dean stared at him with confusion. Cas handed Dean the flask, with an expressionless face accustomed to Cas. His friend raised his eyebrows at him.

“I am unusually thirsty.” Cas stated.

Dean focused his attention to Sam, whose hard expression hadn’t broken.

“So here’s news: we’re not demons…” Dean joked.

Picking up the bottle of cleaning solution and removing its lid, he splashed a good amount onto himself and then handed it to Cas who copied with a hesitation of confusion.

“Not Leviathan either.” He joked again, rolling up his sleeves. Dean then removed his silver knife from the back of his belt and clenched his fist of his right arm, raising it up to be in line with his shoulder. Taking the knife in his left hand, he slowly sliced into the firm muscle of his forearm, letting out a throaty grunt. Wiping the blade on his shirt sleeve before placing it down on the table, he removed a thin tired looking rag from the bag and bandaged it tightly around his cut, looking up at Sam expectantly.

Once the wound was bandaged, he took the knife in his right hand and turned to Cas who had rolled up his sleeves in advance.

“Tense up.” Dean said, taking Cas’s wrist between his fingers and pulling his arm out. Cas formed his hand into a fist and clenched his forearm muscle. Dean looked into Cas’s eyes then, with a sigh, steadily cut into him with the knife. As he removed the blade, wiped it on his own sleeve and tucked it neatly into the back of his belt once more, Dean quickly removed a dark blue piece of material from his back pocket, which used to be an old bandana Dean found when he was a kid and used it many times as a neck scarf when pretending to be a cowboy but had now become a use for tying up wounds and mopping up blood, and tied it tightly around Cas’s cut.

“Not shifters.” Dean announced and turned to Sam, expecting the gun to be gone and his little brother to be back again. But he stayed. Sam stayed, tense and disbelieving.

Dean slowly took a step forward, with his right hand raised towards his little brother.

“Sammy. It’s us.”

His gaze moved from Dean, to Cas and slowly, but surely, he lowered the gun down and relaxed his stance. Sam’s arms went limp as he tucked the gun into the back of his belt. His expression faded into one of relief and finality. He was here. Dean was back. He was alive.

Without hesitation, Sam started pacing towards his brother, who stopped him with raised hands.

“As much as I want to believe it’s you Sammy…” He said, pulling the knife out of his belt. Dean transferred the weapon to his left hand, holding the blade loosely, and offered the handle to Sam. Dean nodded to his brother. “… I gotta be sure.”

Sam then, willingly, quickly but carefully, cut into his forearm. Dean passed him the bottles of fluid and he emptied the flask and the bottle, drinking the last few dregs of holy water and splashing the borax-solution onto himself. Once Sam had passed all three tests, Dean smiled and threw his arms out to his side.

“Let’s do this.” Dean said with a large grin.

Sam stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean, hugging him so tightly like it was the last thing he would ever do. Dean had lost count of the amount times they had hugged like this, each time thinking they would never see each other again. An expression of pain flushed over Sam’s face, his brow squeezing his eyes together and his mouth forming into a frown. Dean smiled as he placed his chin on his brother’s shoulder. He was okay. Sammy was okay. That was all that mattered.

“I looked everywhere for you.” Sam said quietly, blinking rapidly. Dean broke the embrace to hold him at arm’s length.

“I know, Sam. I’m back now.” Dean smiled, smacking him on the arm before relaxing his own at his sides. Sam peered over Dean’s shoulder to Cas. He smiled and nodded.

“Cas.”

“Sam.”

“Nice beard, man.” He said, a grin flashing momentarily on his lips as he brought a hand up and wiped the smirk from his face. Cas’s eyes squinted.

“…Thank you?”

Sam looked back to Dean questionably, his eyes still wide but this time with astonishment.

“So what the hell happened?” Sam said, shaking his head slightly.

“Well I guess standing too close to exploding Dick sends your ass straight to Purgatory.” Dean replied, chucking his chin up, shifting his weight and crossing his arms across his chest.

Sam straightened up and his eyebrows rose slightly as his mouth parted.

“So you _were_ in Purgatory…” Sam said with a contented huff. “I was right!”

“Yeah, don’t look too chuffed. The cotton candy ain’t all that it’s made out to be.” Dean said as his eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed.

“No, no, no it’s just, all along I thought I was chasing dead leads you know?” Sam was overwhelmed. He paced around, raising his hands to his head and running his fingers through his hair. “I took a hunch that that’s where you’d be and well, I looked everywhere, across country, chasing different theories about ways in and out of Purgatory; portals, doorways, giant chasms, hell holes, that sort of thing… I just… Uh, um, wh-what was it _like_?”

Sam’s mind spun with information and questions, he had been chasing this for so long and had spent the best part of the last year solely tracking down anything that would give him any idea as to how to get into Purgatory, how to get out, where the portal would be, if it even was a portal and he had been right all along. The hunt had consisted of backbreaking field work, long, long hours at a computer, even longer hours in front of hundreds of books and minimal amounts of sleep; he just wanted to find his brother. And all the while, he had been completely and utterly alone. The investigation took its toll on Sam and it clearly showed.

Dean’s eyes wandered to the floor as he reflected on his memories of Purgatory. What Dean didn’t realize was during his reflection, he had been staring at Cas the whole time and Cas stared back, fully understanding what was replaying in Dean’s mind. Sam exchanged a glance between the two, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Snapping back to reality and realizing how long he had been in fact staring at the angel, he shook his head slightly and awkwardly looked about the room.

“Hey, Cas, um,” Dean cleared his throat. “Why don’t you, uh… go and freshen up? Let me and Sam talk things over.”

Cas nodded.

“I _am_ dirty.” He announced, looking down at himself and raising his arms out by his sides.

“Yeah, well, Purgatory will do that to you.”

With a moment’s hesitation and one final look between the pair, Castiel crossed the room, walked through the archway and to the bathroom, closing the door carefully behind him. One Castiel was out of earshot; Dean picked up the duffle bags from the table and slung them on the floor by the wall before placing the empty flask of holy water and bottle of borax-based cleaning solution gently inside.

He pulled out one of the wooden chairs and slumped down into it, resting his elbow on the table and allowing his face to fall into his hand as he rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

Sam took a seat in the seat opposite.

“Dean?”

Dean lifted his head and looked at Sam with tired eyes.

“W-What was it like?”

“It was like being… knee deep in God’s armpit. All day, every day.”

“Worse than hell?” He joked. Dean sniggered.

“Not nearly as bad, I mean, I wasn’t being tortured every day I can tell you that.”

“How the hell did you get out?” Sam questioned, resting both his arms on the table and leaning forward on his elbows.

Dean sighed and unintentionally mirrored his brother’s actions.

“With some help.” He replied eventually, hanging his head. Dean gave it a few moments before lifting his head to look at his brother’s expectant expression.

“A guy named Benny.”

Another pause. Dean’s gaze wandered around the room to avoid eye contact.

“Well… a vampire.”

Out of his peripheral vision, Dean watched Sam lean back in his chair and chuck his head back in disappointment.

“A _vampire_?”

“Sam…” Dean rolled his head round to look at him.

“You worked with a _vampire_? A _monster_? The things that we _kill?_ ” Sam’s shoulders tensed.

“It was either that or stay there! He showed us the way out! Without Benny, I wouldn’t be here!”

Sam sighed and he relaxed. Despite his obvious temper that Dean had worked with the very things that they hunt, he had to accept that this Benny guy had indeed helped his brother to escape.

“So what happened to him?”

“He’s walking with the living. Deal was he showed us the way out if I gave him a ride out of there.”

Sam shook his head with a scornful and sarcastic smile. Of course it wasn’t going to be out of the goodness of a _vampire’s_ heart, of course it was going to expect something in return.

“Sam, come on. I know he’s a vampire but he helped me out, okay? Last time I saw him was when we came out the other side and that’s the last time I’ll be seeing him.”

A bitter silence tinged the ambiance.

Sam thought it over in his head and the bitterness morphed to frustration to disappointment and finally to failure. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t rescue Dean. He had failed him, again. Sam bowed his head.

“I should have gotten you out.” Sam muttered, lifting his head and looking into Dean’s eyes. Dean recognized his puppy-dog expression which he would do, intentionally or unintentionally, ever since he was young when he was looking for forgiveness. “I tried so hard.” He finished, shaking his head slightly.

Dean nodded.

“I know, Sammy. I know.”

Seconds passed as the two shared a meaningful gaze when suddenly the bathroom door unlocked and Castiel appeared in front of them, walking round slowly and wiping his hands over with a cloth. At the sound of the door unlocking, the brothers sat back in the chairs and waited. Dean sat with his left elbow balanced on the table and his chair faced sideways on, with his left forearm resting on his thigh. Sam turned himself side on from Dean and had his right arm resting flat on the table as his left hand was placed on his thigh. They watched as Castiel walked into the center of the room, looking fresh, clean and more like the Cas that they knew and loved. Holding the white hand towel in one hand, he gestured his arms out to his side with a smile.

“Better?” Cas asked, his focus on Dean. Light poured out from the bathroom and filled the room with a yellow warmth.                                                                        

Dean’s whole body tensed. As he straightened himself awkwardly - uncomfortably in his chair, his left hand fell down to the table and he clenched his right fist while his right leg lifted up and closed the space between his legs that bit more. His eyes scanned Cas up and down slowly, starting from his playful smile and working his way down. With an almost nervous half smile, Dean’s eyebrows flashed up and he nodded.

Sam studied Dean closely. He knew that movement anywhere. He saw it way too many times in bars where the waitresses where particularly good looking. He saw it when the flirtatious ones would lean over the bar and, whilst Sam would avert his eyes in respect or sometimes discomfort, Dean would take a peak down their shirts. He knew everything about Dean but this just wasn’t making sense. _That_ in _this_ situation? Sam’s eyebrows knitted together and he shifted his gaze to Cas. A smile formed around his lips but carefully hid it with a yawn.

At Sam’s yawn, Dean quickly cleared his throat and rose from the seat, adjusting himself discretely. Sam looked at Cas. Cas looked at Sam. Sam’s smile couldn’t hide any longer and it cracked across his face, revealing his toothy grin. Cas’s eyes squinted in perplexity.

“I’m starving, we got anything in?” He announced, vitally trying to distract himself. Dean walked to the beaten-up fridge. He opened the door and, to his despair, nothing. Dean looked up at the beans simmering away on the stove. Barely enough for one person let alone a person with an appetite like his own.

Sam rose to his feet and pushed out his chair.

“Hey, why don’t I get some food, I’ll get some pie and burgers and whatever.” Sam said chirpily, his grin still remaining on his face. Dean shut the refrigerator door as he turned around to see Sam stood in front of him. “There’s a Biggerson’s and a corner store down the road.”

Before Dean could ask what the hell Sam was smiling at, Sam had grabbed the keys for the impala from the counter and was out of the cabin room in a flash.

“Buy some beer!” Dean shouted after him, as the door slammed shut. He listened as his car came alive, the engine purring as she took off.

Turning round to face Cas, he looked his friend up and down once more, wetting his lips with his tongue. He cleared his throat and habitually shifted his weight on either of his feet.

“So, uh… you done in the bathroom?”

“Yes.” Cas answered, placing the towel on the kitchen counter and looking around the room as Dean watched. He walked past Cas and to the duffle bags resting on the table once again, unzipping the larger army green colored one and pulled out a pair of jeans and a tight black shirt. They weren’t going anywhere any time soon so he didn’t bother with a shirt. Dean turned and walked towards the archway but stopped, turning round and standing in the door frame.

He looked at Cas.

“You good?”

Cas nodded slowly.

“I think so.”

“We’re out of there now, so we can just move on, okay?”

There was a pause.

“Put it behind us.” Cas affirmed, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Exactly.” Dean said with an awkward laugh. “Put it _all_ behind us.”

With a nod, his expression went hard and his gaze too dropped to the floor. Dean turned on his heel and walked slowly into the bathroom. Placing his hands either side of the sink and leaning forward, he breathed in and sighed deeply. Dean lifted his head to take a long hard look at himself in the cracked mirror and he knew, he just knew that he wouldn’t be able to put Purgatory behind him, not completely.

Something had happened during the past year with Cas and how he felt. He remembered on their arrival, into the middle of no-where in the darkness, and turning round to find Cas had disappeared. He had gone and the stab of abandonment, a stab that he recognized too well, pierced through his heart along with the sudden feeling of pure desolation. He remembered praying to Cas every single night without fail, of course when Benny wasn’t listening, asking Cas to send him some sort of sign he was listening, pleading for Cas to still be alive, begging Cas to come home; home, with _him_. But that was all worth it when he found him; it was months before Benny and Dean finally discovered him, bruised and battered and filthy, crouched beside a crystal lake.

Dean remembered stopping dead in his tracks and feeling his heart jump into his throat and a heavy load lift from his shoulders. He was alive. Cas was alive. One less friend to bury.

It was there that Cas admitted to Dean why he left and Dean realized how much Cas cared for him. It was surprising, no one cared this much for him since Bobby or Sam and they were family. He felt as though Cas had become a part of their family too, but it was different. It was love, but not the love you would feel for a relative or a friend. He recognized it. It was almost the same as how he felt with Lisa, but this time it was stronger.

The feeling scared him; fuck, did it scare him. And when Cas confessed that he didn’t want to come through the portal - that he needed to stay in Purgatory to pay penance for what he had done to heaven, to earth, to everybody, that hurt. That hurt Dean more than anything he had ever known. He wasn’t going to let Cas stay alone in Purgatory, he wasn’t going to leave him behind and he certainly wasn’t going to fail him like every other godforsaken thing that he cared about. No way in hell.

And he let Cas know.

And when Cas wouldn’t listen, Dean grabbed him and made him listen.

Dean splashed ice cold water over his face and scrubbed away the remnants of Purgatory. He wanted to ignore it. Move on. Leave it all behind him.

After stripping himself down and throwing his filthy clothes into the corner of the room, Dean climbed into the shower and turned the stainless steel faucet mounted onto the wall and it moaned an unpleasant squeak. Dean let the water beat down hard onto his back, washing away all the dirt, blood and anything that would give any recollection to his time in Purgatory, but not all of it. He knew that.

Once he was clean, Dean stepped out of the shower and dried himself partly. Pulling up his boxer-briefs, jeans and stretching his shirt over him, he grabbed the towel and, opening the door, swiped it furiously backwards and forwards over his hair to dry himself. He walked through the archway and the main room where, once removing the towel, he saw Sam setting two plates on the dining table and setting two plastic bags carefully on the third chair. The chandelier was alight now and the room was dimly lit, but better than darkness. Sam glanced over at Dean before removing several burgers on a plate then removed a plastic container; apple pie. He looked up at Dean and shook it in his hand teasingly and Dean grinned with a wink, playing with the towel in his hand.

Castiel stood next to the archway, staring at the map where Sam had plotted points with pins. As Dean emerged from the shower, his attention was directed elsewhere. Dean hadn’t exactly dried himself as well as he thought he had and his body was still damp, causing his shirt to stick even tighter to his torso than he would have thought. Slight patches had soaked the water completely and had turned a shade darker black than the shirt itself, one patch being just above his pant line. Cas watched intently as Dean stretched and the shirt hitched up and a patch of his wet skin was exposed. Dean looked round to meet Cas’s stare; shock, uncertainty and surprise flooded across his face. Cas’s eyes travelled slowly upwards to meet Dean’s bewildered expression. Dean saw that his gaze was hard, intense and could almost be compared to hunger… a predatory hunger. He backed up slightly. Breaking the gaze, he threw the towel back inside the bathroom and marched towards the table, looking back at Cas and stumbling over his feet slightly. Sam laughed, placed the crate of beer bottles on the third chair and put the empty plastic bags in the bin.

“So what we got?” Dean asked, pulling out his chair and sitting at the table

“Well you’ve got burgers, apple pie and fries and I’ve got…”

“Rabbit food.” He scoffed, unwrapping his first decent meal in a year.

“…Salad.” Sam said firmly and defensively. He sat down at the seat opposite. “It’s good for you.”

“My ass.” Dean laughed and took a bite from his greasy burger. His shoulders relaxed as his mouth filled with the delicious familiar taste of fast food. The burger itself wasn’t even that tasty but to Dean, it was heaven. He closed his eyes and chewed slowly, savoring the taste.

Cas took a seat on the bright red sofa and turned the television on with the remote, which sat on the couch seat. The screen flickered and filled the room with a bright white light. The sound was down considerably quiet but loud enough for Cas to hear. Cas smiled. He missed the television; so simple, so entertaining.

“Hey Cas, want one?” Dean called with his mouth full, waving a burger in the air.

“No thank you.” Cas replied, focused completely on the television screen. “I’m an angel, I don’t suffer from hunger.”

“Suit yourself.” Dean muttered with a shrug and scoffed another mouthful whilst Sam tucked into his salad.

“So,” Dean said, swallowing hard. “What’s been happening this side? You find Kevin?”

Sam sat back and covered his mouth as he swallowed.

“Found him. He gave me a call a couple of months back saying how he had escaped from this warehouse that Crowley had him in.  Found the kid hiding in South Dakota, he’s not half bad at covering his tracks.” Sam nodded towards the map, Dean turned and glanced behind him. “That’s what those pins are in the middle.”

“Is he safe?” Dean asked, lips pursed.

“He’s safe. Translating the demon tablet as we speak.”

“Good.” Dean finished the first burger and unwrapped the second, shoving it into his mouth. “What else have I missed? Sasha grey gone legit?” He chuckled as he took a bottle of beer from the crate and unscrewed it, the bottle gasping for air once opened. Sam exhaled.

“What?” Dean asked, looking up at him.

“Nothing, she um, did a Soderbergh movie.”

Dean shrugged off the comment, taking another bite of the burger and swallowing it down.

“So the job, what types of crazy you been facing?”

 “Well, it’s been weird…” Sam swallowed.

“…Our lives are weird.” Dean interrupted, taking a slug of beer and inhaling through his teeth at the sharpness.

“Yeah… Well… Not much has been happening, considering over the year.” Sam leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair.

“Wh-What do you mean?”

“Leviathans have practically disappeared, I must have ganked five tops over the year, I tried to get some information about Purgatory out of them but they didn’t know anything no matter how hard I tried… Demons are practically gone…”

“What do you mean, gone?” Dean questioned, resting his forearms on the table, burger held between his hands.

“That’s just it, they’ve just… I don’t know. Again, only several here and there but they seemed pretty keen to get away. Keener than wanting to tear me apart.”

Dean frowned at his burger.

“One thing though,” Sam continued, raising quickly from his chair and striding across the room to fetch his laptop from the black leather chair that sat next to the television with its back flat against the wall of the map. Passing in front of Cas, Sam glanced at the angel who remained completely attentive to the TV, Sam grabbed the laptop and strode back to the table, swiftly sitting at his seat and opening the computer in one smooth motion. “Witches.”

“What about ‘em?” Dean asked, mouth full.

“There’s been some sort of group of witches growing…”

“Great. Now they’re fucking spreading in groups!” Disgusted, Dean threw down his burger on the table and swigged a mouthful of beer.

Sam exhaled with a quick smirk, continuing to load up documents and WebPages on his laptop.

“Didn’t think you were going to be too happy about this. Anyway, so get this…”

With a final click, Sam spun the laptop round effortlessly and tilted the screen back. Dean rested his crossed arms on the table; beer gripped in one hand, and peered at the laptop screen. He observed the newspaper headlines of the past few months with uncertain curiosity.

_“MEN DOWN, MEN DOWN.” “ITS RAINING DEAD MEN” “DROPPING LIKE FLIES” “SMALL TOWN MASSACRE IN PENNSYLVANIA” “TOWN LEFT WITH NO WOMEN JUST DEAD MEN”_

Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Creative titles.” Dean scoffed as he lifted a hand from the table and placed his middle finger on the touch pad. Dragging his finger across and clicking the documents hidden behind the newspaper headlines, he observed some photographs of the incidents. A black and white panoramic photograph of a long road of quaint small town, privately owned stores either side, was the first image to pop up. It seemed innocent enough at first glance, but on closer inspection Dean noticed the several hundreds of dead bodies lying in pools of blood in the street. Another image showed a group of men piled into the center of a living room, all with throats slit. “Wow.” He sat back in his chair, taking another swig of beer.

“Yeah.” Sam said, mirroring his brother’s actions. “Those photos weren’t released, I got them from the feds.” He pulled back his laptop and spun it around, loaded another document up onto the monitor and cleared his throat.

“The FBI are in on this?”

“Dude, this is national news at the moment.”

“So how d’ya know it’s witches? Could be some crazy psycho getting kicks out of killing guys?”

“Get this: In every town that these massacres happen, all the women seem to disappear – apart from a few. And let’s just say that they don’t last very long either…”

Sam spun the laptop round to Dean once more, this time with an image of a woman hung in a town’s square on the monitor. Dean sipped slowly from his beer.

“And all these guys that are dropping like flies, their deaths are pretty… creative. I mean besides the ones they published in the papers, slit throats, gutted, limbs ripped off… We had a few in Georgia, where it all started, some of them their stomachs had inflated to the size of basketballs… some their lungs had completely dried up like a rotting fruit, uh, a couple choked on their own tongues um, some guys feet just exploded, one guy was found with wax in his ear which burned a hole in his head uh… about a hundred men just died of cancer overnight, found huge tumors in parts of their bodies even though they were perfectly healthy… loads of different oh wait… this was uh, this was the most…”

Sam stood up, unable to find the right word to finish his sentence, picking up the laptop in doing so, his face contorting and desperately trying to suppress a look of pure disgust. He passed the laptop slowly to Dean, who took it with a quick worried glance to his brother, looked at the picture and gagged, a brisk and breathless “fuck” escaping from his lips. He turned his vision away from the grotesque photo of a man’s genitalia, completely swollen and red raw covered in pustules and warts.

Sam took the laptop back as Dean pushed it away with closed eyes, shaking his head furiously.

“And this wasn’t just one guy; a number of guys had this happen to them…” Sam said, frowning as he closed the photograph.

“Okay so we’ve got a problem.” Dean said quickly, bringing a clenched fist up to his mouth. Once he had blocked the image from his mind, he picked up his burger and looked at the flimsy meat and the soggy bun. Suddenly it wasn’t that appetizing anymore.

“So, naturally, I went to check it out and do you know what I found at almost every scene?”

“Hex bags?” Dean guessed.

“Hex bags.” Sam confirmed with a nod. He ran his hand through his hair as he continued. “All apart from the ones where they’ve been ripped apart or throats slit, those must have been done by the witches themselves. So, these started like… two or three weeks after you and Cas disappeared? First one was in Georgia, a small town was supposedly cut off from any way in or out of it, electricity and phone lines were down… practically a ghost town for the entire night. Cops roll in the next morning to see what’s going on and it’s like they walk onto a set of a bad Hollywood horror movie.”

Sam rose from his seat and walked over to the plotted map on the wall, pointing to the first of the yellow pins, in the west side of Georgia. He turned his attention full on to the map, scanning his eyes all around it as he remembered his travels. The sights that he had seen in those towns were unexplainable.

“Then, they just moved up coast, each with exactly 6 weeks to the date between each massacre. Different town, different state, but more or less exactly the same thing happened in each one. This group of 4 women – look at, look at the laptop.” Sam said quickly, looking over at Dean.

Dean grabbed it and looked at the screen. Security camera images swamped the monitor; each one with a small group of 4 women, 3 middle aged and the last being old and withered, being the main focus. Other images had them in the background, some not all of them were together but they were never alone; one always travelled with another.

“Those women, they’ve appeared in exactly the same town at exactly the same time as this has happened, moving up country up the east coast starting in Georgia then to South Carolina, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, New York, Vermont…” Sam reeled off the states quickly, dotting his finger on each of the pins in an exaggerated movement. “And finally, about 4 weeks ago… a little town in New Hampshire.”

“So…” Dean sat forward again, screwing his burger back up in its wrapper and finishing off the last of his beer. “What the hell is going on? Witches getting some sick kick out of killing… men?” His face was warped with confusion, mouth ajar and eyebrows arched.

Sam walked over to the table and pulled the laptop back around, selecting a webpage buried beneath the collection of image files and documents.

“Well when I was looking into it, I looked at all sorts of crap like… sacrifices, rituals… summonings that sort of thing and I couldn’t find nothin’… until I stumbled across this.” Sam flicked his hair out of his face and cleared his throat as he read from the screen. “It’s apparently called the ‘Gathering of Witches’ a strictly female based ritual where a family or group of seriously powerful witches go around and collect other women to join them and learn dark magic…”

“Great, so we’ve got ourselves a freakin’ witchy army. That’s just great.” Dean opened a second bottle of beer, feeling he was going to need this.

Sam continued.

“They pick the towns in states which have the highest population of women in states closest to their home and well, it says they arrive there…” Sam stopped and sniggered. “‘bestow plentiful amounts of blessings onto the town and then persuade women to come with them ensuring them and long, pleasant life under the influence of magic.’” He said mockingly, looking up at Dean who looked less than dissatisfied. “The ones that don’t join them are publically disgraced and killed…”

“Well that explains the hangings.” Dean interrupted, eyes drifting towards Cas who was still content watching the television, even though it was purely teleshopping. He brought his focus back to Sam, who had his eyes focused on his laptop.

“…And then slaughter every male in sight.” Sam quoted. He looked up at Dean, his brow dipped and lips pursed. “’Like cattle’”

“Awesome.” Dean said with a frown, taking a long drink. Sam read from the webpage.

“It takes place every 800 years and the ritual calls for exactly 300 more witches by the end of the year that this is supposed to take place. Doesn’t say exactly why they did it, but it was supposedly started back when the hunting of witches was extremely popular, back in the 1400s… ‘The ‘Gathering of Witches’ was meant to sustain the witch population and ensure that they wouldn’t become extinct’”

Sam paused and read on.

“Problem is…” He finally spoke. “These witches, they normally travel around in a group of 5…”

“There’s only four in the photo.” Dean stated.

“So either the fifth is… well not part of it or…”

“Or what?”

“She might be the leader.”

“You sayin’ this circus has got a _ringleader_?”

“Yeah it’s in the lore about them. She’s said to be the eldest of them all but because of her ‘twisted personality’-” Sam scoffed. “She’s meant to be horrendously ugly.”

“So what’s the lore on wasting ‘em? Same as the rest?”

“Pretty much.” Sam replied, extending his answer with a sigh. “I mean… besides the whole dark magic crap they’re still mortal, so a bullet or two would knock them down but we may not have to kill them _all_ to stop this…”

“What do you mean?”

“The leader of the group she’s the one that makes all the decisions, where to go, which town to pick, who to kill and how, that sort of thing and basically she is said to be so old that she was there when this whole ‘Gathering of Witches’ bull shit started, it even goes so far as to say she’s the one that started it all.”

Dean sneered and took a sip from his beer.

“So what you’re saying is we ice Snow White and the Seven Dwarves won’t know what to do with themselves?”

“Yeah uh, well kind of. Yeah. You kill the leader and due to their belief that you’ve got to be born into that role, no other witch can step up and make the decisions. So it kind of just falls apart… I’m guessing.”

The two sat in silence as Dean thought over all the information and Sam read on, restoring confidence in the facts in his mind. A light breeze rustled through the trees outside and slid under the gap of the door and through the cracks in the floorboard. Sam felt a chill.

“And what about the women who have been captured? What will happen to them?” Cas piped in, his eyes fixed on the television. Sam sat up in surprise, he had almost forgotten Cas was there. Sam glanced back at the laptop.

“Well it says that they are put under a spell when they come in contact with the witches so… I’m guessing the spell just breaks and they’re back to normal?”

“So who’s the leader out of the 4 do you think?”

“Well it’s either the fifth that’s hidden away or…” Sam spun the laptop round to Dean.

An image of an old woman’s face was front and center on the monitor. Her face was unfortunately displeasing with a naturally awful facial structure of a crooked nose, pointed chin and large forehead; everything that struck Dean as a stereotypical witch. All she needed now was the green skin, but her skin appeared more like dark old leather than anything else. The skin around her eyes, mouth, chin and jowls sagged considerably and creases and wrinkles framed her face. She was covered with warts, unpleasant lumps and aging spots which made Dean wonder why, with all this dark magic, that she couldn’t conjure a face lift.

“Oh she’s _beautiful_.” Dean uttered sarcastically. He looked up at Sam from under his brow. “So you sure about this?”

“I got a hunch.” Sam answered with a shrug.

Dean finished his beer, slammed it down on the table in conclusiveness and clapped his hands together.

“Well that’s good enough for me; looks like we’ve got a case.” He announced almost happily.

Instantaneously, Cas rose from the sofa and walked towards the door, stopping to stand in front of the table.

“We need to go.” He declared; a look of determination across his face.

Dean sighed, raising from the table slowly and standing in front of Cas.

“Cas, we just got here like an hour ago, I’m freakin’ tired and I think we all just deserve a couple of hours shut eye, don’t you think?”

“But Dean, there’s a case!” Cas hissed urgently, taking on an almost threatening tone.

Dean took a step forwards, bringing himself closer towards Cas. They were now just arms length away from one another. Sam rose from his chair slowly and watched them intently.

“And I said, we just got here.” Dean repeated bluntly, clenching his jaw. Castiel squinted and tilted his head.

Sam cleared his throat loudly.

“So… we set on leaving here in the morning?” Sam said lightly. Dean and Cas’s intense stare didn’t falter.

“If that’s all right with Mr Eager Beaver over here?” Dean mocked, jutting his chin at Cas and folding his arms across his chest.

Cas stood another step forward.

“I think you should amend your tone with me, Dean.” He growled. Dean arms unfolded.

“Make me.”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, what’s gotten into you two?” Sam said immediately, stepping in between them and pressing his hands against either of their chests and pushing them apart lightly. Dean turned dramatically, swiping at Sam’s hand, grabbed a beer and stormed for the door. Sam cocked his head at Cas as the angel turned his back on him and sat back in front of the TV.

Throwing his hands up at his sides in aggravation, Sam followed after Dean, catching the front door as it was about to close. He swung it open and stepped outside, watching his brother open the beer bottle and throw the lid aggressively into the grass.

“The hell was that all about?” Sam asked, stomping after him.

“Just leave it, Sammy.” Dean barked.

“Dude,  you looked like you were gonna…”

“Gonna what, Sam?” Dean spun round on his heels to face his brother as he stopped walking.

“Huh?” He provoked, jerking his shoulders back.

Sam faltered at the sudden halt and drew himself up to full height as he saw the aggression in his brother’s eyes. No, it wasn’t just aggression, he was being defensive. Sam studied his brother as Dean took a long swig from his beer bottle.

“Did something… _happen_ in Purgatory?” Sam asked, bowing his head slightly. He watched as he saw his older brother’s shoulders relax and he shifted on his feet. Dean turned sideways on to look at the moon that had rose high into the sky. The sky was cloudier tonight. He took another swig of beer, the bottle flying up to his lips quickly and fallen back to his side loosely. Dean looked at his little brother’s expectant gaze and held it for a while, debating whether or not to tell Sam what’s happened to him. He knew Sam could tell something was wrong, but he couldn’t face it. Not tonight.

“Just forget it.” Dean said dismissively.

“Dean?” Sam pressed.

“I said forget it, Sam.”

They exchanged a final look and Sam nodded. Dean watched as Sam walked back inside the cabin slowly. He walked over to the impala and leant against her door, rolling his head back and letting out a long sigh.

Dean left it until he finished his beer and chucked it carelessly into a bush before returning back inside. He opened the door gently and craned his head round the door inside to see the main room empty, but was greeted with the sound of Sam brushing his teeth in the bathroom. As he gently shut it behind him and walked into the sleeping area, he noticed Cas sat on his bunk rifling through his toiletries bag, scrutinizing everything in extreme detail. Cas didn’t lift his head when Dean sat himself down on Sam’s camp bed and rested his elbows on his knees and sat there just watching him in adoration. The corner of his mouth ticked into a smile.

Sam walked round from the bathroom and stood, looking from Dean to Castiel quickly. It was hilarious to see his brother under such an influence that he didn’t even realize Sam was stood there until a good few seconds after he had appeared out from the bathroom. Dean had to double take, when the adoration in his face washed away and was left with almost embarrassment, even though Dean tried his best to hide it. His younger brother smiled broadly. He knew.

“What?” Dean jeered, rising to his feet and walking towards Sam.

“No-Nothing just… glad to have you back.” He paused. “That’s all.”

“Stow that sissy shit and go to bed, bitch.” Dean joked, slapping his arm as he walked under the archway to the bathroom.

“Jerk.” Sam replied, under his breath.


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep came effortlessly to Dean as he slipped in and out of unconsciousness almost too quickly, temporarily forgetting the world around him for what seemed like a split second. It had only felt like five minutes ago that his head hit the pillow when reality was already tugging him from his sleep. His eyes parted to a lazy squint, eyelashes fluttering as he frantically tried to flicker away his exhaustion and wrench his heavy eyelids apart.

Widening his eyes as far as they would go, Dean pushed his head further back into the pillows as awareness surged over him. He checked in with his legs; one straight and the other crooked, then his arms; his right slung over the bed towards his younger brother; hand dangling open and innocent. His left arm was relaxed up by his head with his hand sandwiched firmly between the two pillows, giving his head extra elevation. Dean was laid on his back with the messy quilt covering just up to his waist.

Dean’s first, instinctual action was to check on Sam. Rolling his head to the side, he widened his eyes even further, parting his lips and raising his eyebrows, in a desperate attempt to rid himself of fatigue. Sam slept peacefully on his side, facing the wall parallel with the quilt pulled high up into the crook of his neck, engulfing his body into a soft lumpy log. With a barely audible grunt, Dean heaved himself onto his side, propping himself up onto his right elbow. Rubbing his eyes once over with the back of his hand, Dean yawned and sagged his heavy head into his chest before picking it up lethargically to look at the alarm clock with squinted eyes.

_04:02am_ it read.

Screwing his face up and dropping back into the bed with a sigh, Dean opted to try and get at least another 2 hours sleep. He hadn’t exactly kept track of how many hours he had slept but anything was better than nothing, especially as he was exhausted almost friggin’ always. Dean let his eyelids fall to a close and gave a long exhalation through his nose. But Dean felt… strange. He opened his eyes once more, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He felt like he was being… Suddenly, he came to realize a heavy weight at the end of his bed. Dean bolted his head up to look at Castiel, who was for God only knows what reason, sat awkwardly at the foot of his bed. Dean flinched, raising himself up and resting his back against the pillows, hands slammed either side of him. With his neck arched over and shoulders pressed firmly against the bottom of the top bunk, Castiel glanced over to see Dean looking at him with a look of complete confusion, after he had recovered from the shock.

“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel muttered before standing up. “I’m glad you’re awake, that position was rather uncomfortable.” Cracking his neck with closed eyes and rolling his shoulders round, Cas smiled at his startled friend.

“Cas what the _fuck_?” Dean spat in a hushed tone, shaking his head and widening his eyes. “How many times man… what, what have I told you about watching me when I sleep? It’s damn creepy!”

Cas’s eyebrows narrowed together fleetingly as he straightened up.

“I was just watching over you.” He replied, his voice close to a deep whisper.

“You don’t… You don’t need to. Okay?”

There was a pause.

“But I want to, Dean.”

Dean felt a tug at his heart and his eyes met Cas’s. Dean’s expression was cold and annoyed but his eyes refused to play along. They were soft and loving, as were Cas’s, full of meaning and phrases that neither would say. Distraction, Dean needed a distraction; something to stop this thing inside of him bubbling out of his mouth. He’d kept it down for this long so in Dean’s logic, if he would ignore it, it would _stay_ down.

Breaking the stare and blinking his eyes around the room, Dean cleared his throat and threw the covers off his legs. He swiftly brought his legs round and placed his feet on the floor, clambering out of bed. Dean marched past Castiel, throwing him a small glance as he brushed past him, and headed for his brother.

“Come on, Sammy, wake up.” Dean grunted, grabbing Sam’s shoulder and shaking it violently. Sam woke with a start. In an instant and with a cry, Sam threw himself round, grabbed Dean’s arm and throat with his large hands and pulled Dean towards him, as if to attack. Immediately, Castiel took a few quick steps closer, ready to intervene when needed.

“Whoa, whoa. whoa, whoa! Sam! Hey! It’s me!” Dean shouted, hands wrapping around his brother’s, gripped onto his throat. “Sammy! Hey!”

Drawing in quick, raspy breaths, Sam’s hands almost instantaneously drew away from Dean as the predatory instinct in his eyes wore away and was replaced with shock. He held his hands in front of him for a second before grabbing his brother’s shirt between his fists, eyes fleeting over him with his mouth slightly ajar. Sam’s eyebrows were arched and his expression was strong with sorrow. Dean’s face was awash with concern as he gripped Sam’s face and shoulder, looking him over.

“I’m s-I’m sorry… I’m sorry..” Sam spluttered, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply.

“Man,” Dean started, swallowing hard. “Must have been having one hell of a nightmare, huh?” He chuckled nervously, a half smile appearing on his lips. He removed his hand from Sam’s face and slapped his younger brother’s neck playfully, pulling himself to full height as Sam relaxed his grip on his t-shirt.

Sam flashed his eyebrows at Dean and placed his feet on the ground, bowed his head between his knees and started breathing in and out steadily. He had spent the last year completely alone and now Dean was back. Dean _was back_. Sam reminded himself of this every minute. All was better. It was really him. And _that_ was a ‘wake up’ call.

Dean was back and he was safe and he was alive.

Sam wiped his hands up his face and through his hair as he stood up. He smiled at Dean. “I just sort of expected to wake up and find you gone, you know?” Sam said, eyes trailing across the floor. He rolled his shoulders back and looked at Dean who nodded understandingly.

“It’s okay, Sam.” He smiled. Sam looked over to Cas who stood close behind Dean, eyes full of caution and surprise.

“Mornin’ Cas. Sorry about that.”

Cas nodded and opened his mouth to speak as Dean looked between them.

“Hey, okay, no flirting.” Dean interrupted, striding off towards the bathroom. “Get dressed and ready - we’re hittin’ the road.” Cas narrowed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he peered at Sam, who cleared his throat awkwardly and continued to walk through the archway into the kitchen.

It took the boys only an hour to get dressed, argue over the length of time Dean spent in the shower, eat the reheated leftovers from yesterday’s dinner (to Sam’s dismay), pack their duffle bags of the clothes and equipment they needed and load the car up. Dean slammed the trunk of the Impala down to a close and turned to face Rufus’s cabin, leaning himself against the car. Castiel stood close by and watched with Dean as Sam walked out of the front door, locked it behind him and shoved the key in his pocket.

It was still dark out, the sun not high enough to even peep over the horizon. The sky was a heavy dark blue, almost black, lightening slightly into a navy in the east. The stars had disappeared, transforming the sky into a moody body of blue. Birds were alive with their chatter and singsong and there was a light breeze rustling the leaves in the trees to create another sound for the morning melody. Castiel looked around fondly at the creation of his father and smiled to himself. Earth was beautiful.

“You ready?” Dean called. Sam turned and nodded. “So, where we going?”

“Well… the last witch attack was in New Hampshire, right? And they’re moving up the east coast so… Maine is the last state which is on their path.”

Dean nodded with a frown and sighed. “Of course it is.” He dipped his chin into his leather jacket’s collar and shook his head slightly. “It’s not like we’ve literally just come from there or anything.” He muttered angrily, picking his head up and stepping away from the impala to walk round to the driver’s door.

“Maine? Excellent, I will see you there.” Cas said, turning and walking away from the car.

“Hey!” Dean called. “Cas! Cas! You’re in this with us, so you’re gonna _stick with us_ , none of this zapping around crap, capisce?”

Castiel squeezed his lips together in a disappointed pout and looked down at the car. He restrained the urge to dramatically roll his eyes. Human travel was pathetically slow.

“Yeah, I capisce.” Cas muttered back, slowly.

Sam walked round to the passenger seat door and placed his arms on the roof of the car. Dean mirrored his actions.

“It’s gonna be quite a drive but I we could always do little jobs along the way, and this time for the next _800 years_ … so we either do it now or don’t do it at all.” Sam said.

There was a moment of silence as Dean nodded his head, looking around his surroundings as if processing thoughts.

“Well we better do it now.” Castiel stated, copying the actions of the brothers. After a brief pause, Sam laughed, stepping back from the Impala.

“What?” Cas asked, looking to Dean, whose smile was spread wide across his face.

“Nothing… you just… what’s made you so keen to hunt?” Dean wiped his nose with his finger.

“Well, it’s complicated.” Cas started, he had clearly been thinking over this a long time. “Even though I have decided to have no direct link to heaven any longer…”

“Since when?” Dean interrupted.

“Just now.”

“… Oh.”

“Will you let me finish?” Cas retorted, putting his arms by his side and turning to Dean. Sam smiled a broad as Dean nodded and shrugged his shoulders, ticking his head to the side and crossing his arms across his chest, embarrassed. It was the expression when Bobby used to tell Dean to quit his whining and get on with it, or when he caught Dean in the kitchen sneaking a second helping of food late at night.

“As I was saying… even though I have decided I want nothing to do with heaven any more, I still want, I still _need_ to help people. So…” Cas stepped forward, closing the gap between him and Dean. He smiled enthusiastically. “I’m gonna become a hunter.”

Dean unfolded his arms, raised his eyebrows at Cas and looked over the car to Sam who was smiling and shaking his head in disbelief. Dean looked back at Cas; his smile was accompanied with a childlike light in his eyes, full of hope and promise.

“Really?” Sam asked; his tone tinged with mockery.

“Yeah.” Cas replied quickly. “I could be your third wheel.”

Sam coughed to cover his laugh, squeezed his lips together and flashed his eyebrows at Dean.

“You know that’s not a good thing, right?” Dean said, deadpan, looking back at Cas.

“’Course it is! A third wheel adds greater grip, greater stability…” Castiel had this monologue planned but was cut short from Sam’s cackle. Dean looked over at Sam and then back to Cas; the light in his eyes hadn’t faded. Dean smiled. Even he had to admit his naivety was cute sometimes.

“Cas, just get in the car.” Dean chuckled, shaking his head.

“Can I at least sit in the front sea-”

“No!” The brothers said in unison, opening the car doors and climbing inside quickly.

Castiel bowed his head with raised eyebrows as he stood quiet for a short moment, clearly disappointed by the response. Opening the door and climbing into the back seat, Cas looked back at the cabin as the car purred down the road, picking up speed as Dean gently eased the acceleration down further and further. Before long, Rufus’s cabin was just another memory filled speck in the distance. The car headed east and Dean had a feeling they wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

***

Metallica, Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath accompanied the trio for the first couple of hours of their journey but when Sam lost it after the third replay of Zeppelin’s album and Dean nearly crashed the car when Sam tried to force the cassette out of the tape player, the rest of the journey was spent in silence. Dean lashed out and started hurling abuse at Sam about how he “didn’t even fuckin’ know what real music was” and how he was “disgusted that his own flesh and blood listened to the sort of trash that’s on that god damn i-MusicPlayerPieceOfShit”. Sam retorted with saying how Dean was “stupid for not knowing what an iPod was” and how the same “stupid’” albums played over and over again was “driving him insane”. And, like a patient but despondent mother of two constantly bickering children, Castiel stepped in and announced that if they didn’t “shut up, stop arguing and ‘stow your crap’” that he would zap the three of them to Maine immediately.

To which Sam questioned that this was probably the better idea.

And Dean told Sam to shut up.

Castiel remained content with staring out of the window, with it rolled completely down to feel the wind in his face, whipping across his skin and channeling through his hair. Dean caught Cas with closed eyes at some points of the trip and watched how his hair blew around with the wind as he smiled gently.  Cas spent most of the time observing the scenery of Montana as the car careered through highways that cut through vast valleys, surrounded in colossal brown mountains covered in patchy green and yellow fur, passing a few dusted with snowy tops. Some valleys were larger than others, some with great lakes, surrounded by grass, others chocked full of tall coniferous trees, with the only break in the dark green blanket being the bulky blue snake that weaved through the landscape. Large, fluffy white clouds loafed about in the bright sky, creeping across slowly and sluggishly with the soft breeze.

The impala raced through several small towns, Dean asking Sam over and over again if he needed to ‘go’ and if he did that this would be the last opportunity for the next hundred miles or so. He asked him as many times as it took for Sam to finally shout “NO!”, then Dean sat there for the next half an hour with a smug, satisfied smile on his face. On the third time, Castiel enquired into where Sam was “going”, Dean laughed and tried to explain how “Sam has a very weak bladder and he used to wet himself constantly when he was a kid, absolutely anywhere, in bed, at school… I mean he still does every time he sees a hot chick, Sammy here just gets so excited he just-“, Dean was swiftly cut off by a blow to the arm.

“Oh yeah punch the driver,” Dean yelled, gripping onto his bruised arm that held the steering wheel. “Yeah that’s a _real_ smart thing to do! Shit that _hurt_!”

Then it was Sam’s turn to look satisfied.

***

After 9 grueling hours of bickering, play-fighting, punching, yelling and singing with 6 burping and farting contests, all of which Cas won, they finally decided to call it a day and cross the border into North Dakota and stop off at the next town; Williston. Sticking to the outskirts of town, Dean cruised the Impala along the road whilst Sam kept one eye out of the window and the other on his phone, searching for a motel nearby.

“There.” Sam spoke after a while, pointing in front of the car on the left hand side of the road. “Take a left here then follow the road down and take a right. The place should be on the right.” Dean nodded and followed the instructions.

Soon enough, the car pulled up to an appealing _hotel_ , to Dean’s surprise. Switching the engine off and putting the keys into his pocket whilst opening the door and stepping out, Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. As Sam and Castiel climbed out, slamming the doors behind them, Dean looked at Sam and whistled.

“Nice choice, Sammy. You done well!” Dean said slowly, nodding his head.

Sam and Dean walked round to the boot of the car and grabbed their duffle bags. After Dean finished locking the car, he turned and took in the size of the hotel. It generally wasn’t that big as far as hotels went, but it was the largest thing Dean had ever stayed in. He was impressed to say the least.

The hotel was separated into two buildings; the first was a large, white paneled block of rooms, around 14 windows long and 3 windows high and stood to the left of the smaller entrance building which was just one story high and again covered in glorious white panels, with a large open porch jutting out made of red brick and white pillars, giving the unadorned building a pinch of life. The sign of the hotel’s name was perched proudly in the centre of the structure, its brass letters gleaming attractively in the sunlight. Sheltered by the porch’s shadow, a gleaming set of automatic double doors stood invitingly, the glass reflective and bright.

“Damn! Wonder how much it’d be to stay here for a night?” Dean announced, locking up the car.

“Well with fake credit cards I don’t think we have a problem worrying about money.” Sam stated sarcastically.

“Oh Sammy I love it when you spoil me.” Dean joked, flashing his eyebrows and bearing a large toothy grin, swinging his duffle bag round on his shoulder. Sam copied unintentionally, shoved his free hand into the pocket of his jacket and rolled his eyes. Castiel glanced between the two brothers then focused his eyes forward towards their destination.

The trio walked towards the hotel with Dean in the middle, Sam on his right and Cas on his left. Castiel noticed a large garden that lay beyond the hotel, accompanied with a small pond, a rockery and several different species of flowers. The midday sun was high, free from obstruction by thick clouds, offering the trio a comfortable warmth. Everything seemed well is Cas’s eyes.

Crossing the car park lead them straight to the reception; a small, dainty room which was a little larger than a corridor, with the counter desk to the right of the automatic doors, where an enthusiastic young man stood behind patiently with a broad smile. A decent sized seating area was to the left of them, the chairs crafted from a light brown leather and plush white armrests to match the reoccurring light wooden and white theme that frequented the hotel. Dead ahead of the entrance the actual corridor started, which was lined with a few hotel doors, and lead down to a grand, dimly lit room, where Dean saw a pool table and a couple of bars. He smirked and nodded slowly. Impressive.

The walls of the reception were white washed with a wooden shelf consisting of a few books, certificates and framed photographs of the hotel. The floor was tiled with a linoleum orange tiled surface, to Dean’s disappointment - it wasn’t exactly the sparkling diamond encrusted white tiles he had been hoping for, but anything beats dark red carpet with mysterious damp stains blotted all over it. A printer and copier machine sat on the right of the desk and a computer, in front of where the young man – who’s smile was kind of creeping Dean out a little bit – stood.

Dean noticed a small golden colored plaque behind the counter listing what was and wasn’t permitted in the hotel. He nudged his brother with his elbow.

“Hey look,” Dean pointed. “They allow pets in here, looks like I’m gonna have to keep you on a leash then.” Dean smirked. Sam scowled.

Sam and Dean walked up to the counter, the brothers dumping their bags by their feet, whilst Cas wandered about by the leaflet distribution section in the seating area. Dean slowly removed his wallet from his pants pocket as he smiled at the man behind the reception. Sam stood to his left, facing the reception desk side on.

“Hi and welcome to Super 8 where our job is to make your stay here as Super _Great_ as it can be!” the young man proclaimed, beaming and clearly overly-impressed by the pun. Sam scoffed quietly through his nose. Dean’s eyes narrowed as his forehead tipped forward. _Is this guy for real?_ “My name’s Jerry and I would love to know how I can help you today!”

Taken aback by Jerry’s complete and utter eagerness and devotion towards his job, Dean placed an elbow on the counter top and searched through his wallet, glancing up at Jerry as he spoke.

“Yeah, hi, we’d like to book a room for tonight, the three of us? You got anything?” Dean asked.

“I will just check right away, sir!” And, still with a smile, Jerry looked down at the computer screen, clicked the mouse a couple of times and pushed some keys on the keyboard. Within seconds, he looked back up to Dean and glanced at Sam.

“And what sort of room are you looking for, sir?”

“Two beds would be awesome.”

Jerry’s gaze slowly moved between Dean, Sam and Cas as his brow furrowed slightly and his smile temporarily disappeared. Dean watched his eyes flicker between them, then glanced back at Cas. He turned back to Jerry, who was grinning again.

“Oh, no it’s okay, he’s…” Dean started, straightening himself up and gesturing back at Cas with his thumb, chucking his chin up. Jerry pursed his lips together into a broad toothless smile and waved his hands at Dean.

“No, no, it’s okay, I perfectly understand. Here, at Super 8, we allow anyone to stay here regardless of their sex, race or sexual preference.” Jerry glimpsed at Cas, then to Sam and smiled back at Dean once more.

Dean scoffed and Sam’s brow dipped.

“No, no, no, we’re not…” Dean explained, with a laugh. He was almost used to this now. “We’re not… We’re brother’s.” He gestured at Sam, ticking his head sideways.

“Oh no, I can see _that_.” Jerry agreed with a few fervent nods. His eyes moved over to Cas, who had collected around 20 different leaflets and was reading his way through another. Dean turned around, sighed a “ _Are you friggin’ serious?_ ” under his breath and marched towards Castiel exasperatedly.

“Look, Dean! All these wonderful little booklets are offering you discounts at different stores and free trips in the local area and some are offering rates and discounts which no other part of the country has ever seen!” Castiel said slowly and quietly with awe, his eyes searching over the leaflets in wonder. “Remarkable…” he whispered.

“No, Cas, God, they’re coupon booklets and leaflets, they’re advertising crap, they just they want dummies like you to friggin’ pick up these things, believe it all and buy all their shit, that’s what they’re for. God, put them down Cas…” Dean sighed, shaking his head slightly and taking the leaflets out of Cas’s arms.

Jerry and Sam stood at reception, Sam watching and Jerry, _still_ , smiling. Sam turned to look back at him, his eyebrows raised slightly with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. Jerry gestured his eyebrows, nodding towards Cas and Dean as they rearranged the leaflets, Dean hurriedly so and Cas fighting the urge to shove a few of them in his trench coats pockets without Dean noticing. Sam knew what he was insinuating, where they together, right? He shrugged his shoulders and laughed, pulling out his wallet and facing himself towards the reception.

“We’ll take the twin room please.” Sam said, nodding with his words.

“Queen’s bed is the largest size we have, sir.” Jerry stated.

“That’ll be fine.”

Dean grabbed Cas by the arm and gently dragged the child back to reception. Cas pouted.

“I got this.” Sam said, peering over his shoulder at Dean. “You and Cas go back to the car, we’ll go out and grab a bite to eat. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Good, I’m fuckin’ starvin’.” Dean announced, turning on his heels and marching back to the Impala, stopping at the automatic doors realizing the absence behind him. Dean turned around and glared at Cas who stood in front of the leaflets, looking at them longingly.

“Cas!” Dean called. Cas looked up and followed obediently, grabbing one leaflet and fiddling with it between his fingers as he jogged after Dean.

“Dean, look!” Castiel said as he caught up with him. Dean glanced over his shoulder and looked down at Cas’s leaflet he waved in front of him. “I found one leaflet saying in a couple of weeks, in this town there is a pie eating contest and a fishing contest…”

Dean was quiet, but widened his eyes and peered at Cas to indicate he was listening.

“And the prize is money… and you know, your favorite things are pie, fishing and money, so I was thinking maybe… coming back after the hunt and you could enter.”

Dean stopped at the car and looked at Cas with a smile. Cas smiled back.

“Does that sound like our sort of thing?” Cas joked, tipping his brow forward.

Dean’s smile widened to a grin.

“You’re an idiot.”

Cas looked confused.

“Are you insulting me?”

Dean laughed through his nose and stared at Cas - his friend. His friend who he had been through so much with. His friend who had saved him in more ways than one. His friend who he knew would be there for him until the bitter end. His friend who he loved as strongly as he did for Sam _._

Dean clasped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and shook it firmly.

_His friend who he had been through so much with._

Dean watched as Castiel’s stare searched Dean’s face, moving from his eyes to his nose, to his mouth, back up to his eyes.

_His friend who had saved him in more ways than one_. 

The smile faded from Dean’s lips as his eyes travelled down to Castiel’s lips.

_His friend who he knew would be there for him until the bitter end._

Dean narrowed his eyes and his pace quickened. Then, suddenly, he felt a gentle hand on top of his own.

_His friend who he loved as strongly as he did for Sam._

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked at Cas, whose eyes were gentle and adoring and pleading.

_But this was different._

Dean’s face fell and he withdrew his arm quickly and cleared his throat, raising a fist to cover his mouth. He shook his head as if to clear his mind from his thoughts and backed up, stumbling over his feet and almost falling over the hood of the Impala. He snaked his way around the car and into the driver’s seat, beeping the horn a couple of times frantically. With a short delay, Sam came out of the reception to find Cas looking puzzled, staring down at the floor.

“You okay, Cas?” Sam asked as he jogged up to the car. Castiel brought his gaze up to look at Sam.

“Come on, Sam! I’m starving!” Dean yelled.

“What’s up with him?” Sam said as he opened the door and swung into the passenger seat.

“Hell knows.” Dean replied, glancing from Sam to Cas frequently as he laughed nervously. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Dean suspiciously. “What?” He jeered defensively.

“Nothing…” And when Dean’s gaze hardened and lips pursed tighter, Sam repeated an elongated “no- _thing_!”

“Do you wanna tell angel boy to get in the car or shall I?”

At that moment, Cas appeared in the car. Dean jumped.

“Damn it, Cas! You couldn’t have just walked 3 God damn paces could you?!”

Dean caught Castiel’s eye in the rearview mirror and he shuffled about awkwardly before starting the car and speeding away towards the diner, which Dean spotted had an offer on a free apple pie with every bacon double cheeseburger, which they had passed in the town earlier.

The car pulled up to the diner and they slid out of the car, Cas sitting inside for a little longer than the brothers, mulling over the thoughts in his head. Dean desperately wanted to ask what was on Cas’s mind, but he had a fear that it was the same issue that clouded his thoughts day in day out. After he had eventually climbed and Dean had locked the car, they strode towards the diner; Sam opening the glass door and holding it open for them as they reached the entrance.

The diner wasn’t anything special; a one story, long rectangular building washed in a lemon yellow from the outside with a sky blue canopy stuck onto the side of the building, shadowing the windows and entrance from the sun. Inside, the mahogany wooden walls were covered with framed photographs, road signs and advertisements selling popular alcoholic products. Small leather booths with oak wooden backs and tables lined the walls and the middle of the restaurant, leaving 2 aisles width ways and 4 towards the kitchen. The diner was full of a mouthwateringly sweet, thick, heavy smell of pie, steak and sausages. A few couples sat in different booths, all equally spread out, chattering quietly and gossiping between themselves.

Dean spotted a table in the far corner, near the restrooms, and Sam and Cas followed. Dean stood to the side as Cas slid into the booth and sat next to the window; Dean sat next to him, glancing at Cas quickly. Sam sat opposite Dean, next to the aisle.

 Cas stared out of the window and Sam looked suspiciously between Dean and Cas. Dean shrugged and frowned, exaggerating his movements. Sam picked up a menu and read through it.

Almost instantly, a waitress sauntered over to the table, a pen and small clipboard in her hand. Dean watched her and lifted his head to get a better look. She was fairly tall and fairly attractive, with a large amount of curly orange hair that was pushed back slightly with a thick blue headband. She had pale skin, peppered with freckles.  The waitress, who - when she finally came close enough so Dean could read her name tag -  was called Debbie and wore the bright red uniform polo shirt, the first two buttons done up, and a pair of tight fitting trousers, to compliment her curvaceous legs. She was nice, looked like a fun girl and would usually be his type. But he wasn’t feeling it. She approached the table, smiled and stood next to Dean, pushing her hips forward slightly as she rested her weight on one leg.

“Hi guys, I’m Debbie, what can I get’cha?” She asked in a laid back tone. Debbie oozed an aura of relaxation and self-confidence.

Sam lifted his head and then glanced back down to the menu.

“Yeah, I’ll have the bacon double cheeseburger with the free apple pie and-“ Dean started.

“Fries?” She chipped in.

“Double.” Dean stated quickly, turning to Sam.

“-And I’ll have the salad please.” Sam nodded, with a smile.

“Man, do you eat anything else?” Dean questioned sardonically. That earned a pursed lipped glare from his younger brother. Debbie smiled and laughed through her nose.

“Okay and a salad… aa-nd, anything for daydreamer over there?”

Castiel looked up at Debbie and she winked. His eyes narrowed temporarily. Flirtation.

“..No thank you.”

Debbie wet her lips with her tongue, narrowing her eyes fleetingly.

“Are you sure you don’t see anything you like? On or off the menu, take your pick.” She said with a cheeky grin.

Dean glanced from Castiel to the waitress with knitted eyebrows and wide eyes as they stared at one another. Cas tipped his head to the side a little. Jealousy lurched inside of Dean, twisting in his gut and seething in his expression and Sam noticed it. Restraining himself from intervening, Sam sat back and watched; he wanted to see where this would go.

“Hey, hey, hey hold up a second.” Dean said, putting out a hand and turning to Debbie. “I thought you were supposed to be selling us _food_ , not selling _yourself_?”

Debbie’s eyes fixed on Dean and her mouth dropped as she took a step back.

After a pause, Debbie spun on her heels and marched back towards the counter, glancing at Dean over her shoulder momentarily, mouth still ajar and eyes narrowed in disgust.

Well, that showed her.

Castiel watched with furrowed eyebrows as Dean shifted in his seat. He looked up at Sam, who’s eyes were wide, brow dipped low and his lips tightly pursed together, the _bitch glare_ as Dean liked to refer to it as, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean spat.

Sam shook his head slowly and sighed, slouching back further into the booth.

A moment of awkward silence accompanied the trio as Sam’s eyes scoured the diner for anything that could prevent himself from shouting at Dean. He was acting ridiculous. And Sam knew why. Well, he had a hunch. Something had happened between him and Cas, something that was knotting Dean up inside and he needed to just freakin’ come clean and tell him what the fuck was going on for Christ’s sake. He had an urge to grab him and shake him and get it out of him, but Sam knew better. Pushing Dean in the wrong situation would just draw him further and further back, then whatever was happening would just never be resolved. It had happened before, it would happen again. So Sam had to wait for the right opportunity.

Castiel continued to observe Dean, who could see him out the corner of his eye. Dean stared at his hands and fiddled with his fingers.

“You’re irritated?” Cas spoke finally. Dean rolled his eyes with his head and glared at Cas. Cas’s eyes squinted further. “With… me?”

“Oh we got a freakin’ _genius_ right over here everybody!” Dean announced, his tone thick and heavy with sarcasm. He threw his arms in the air when he spoke then slammed them back down on the table to push himself up and out of his seat dramatically.

“Dean, where you going?” Sam called with a sigh as Dean marched away.

“To use the little girl’s room.”

With a sigh, Sam pulled himself up and walked after his brother. “I’m comin’.”

Dean stopped and spun around, “What you gonna hold my hand while I take piss? Aww that’s sweet.”

“Shut _up_ , Dean,” Sam griped, shoving Dean’s shoulder forcefully with his hand.

 Aggressively, Dean swung the door open to the restroom and sulked inside. The room was small, with cubicles to the left, sinks to the right and urinals along the same wall as the cubicles but obstructed from view. The restroom was paved with small grayish tiles, a few chipped and cracked in some places from age. The room had a vague smell of damp residing in the air – all the classic signs of a downbeat W/C. Sam closed the door quickly behind them and Dean knew that Sam had something to say. He stopped in the center of the room and turned to face his brother.

“What the hell is up with you, Dean? You’re acting like a freakin’ angsty teenager!” Sam gestured his arm behind him.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Dean retorted dismissively, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about! You and Cas! Man, ever since you’ve come back from Purgatory you’ve been acting damn _weird_.”

Dean stayed quiet, glancing at himself in the one mirror above the sink. Sam took a step forward. The opportunity was now if ever.

“There’s something going on between you and Cas, isn’t there, Dean?” He said slowly.

Scoffing through his teeth and swatting the subject away with his hand, Dean turned and headed for the urinals.

“I ain’t got time for this.”

Sam leaned against the sink and looked up at the ceiling, letting out a deep sigh through his nose. God Dean was being such a little bitch about this. When Dean had finished, zipped up and walked back round to wash his hands, Sam was standing with eyebrows raised, forehead tilted forward and arms crossed.

“Well?”  Sam jeered.

“Shut up.” Dean washed his hands and splashed his brother with the water. Sam smiled.

“Dean, you’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later,” he said softly.

“Talk about what, Sam? Huh?” Dean heckled, walking over to the paper towel dispenser and tearing some down. “My _feelings_? Fuck off.”

“Oh come on, man.” Sam said with a pleading tone, holding open the door. He hated seeing his brother this wound up about something other than his own deliberate attempts to annoy him.

Dean stepped through, turned to Sam and pointed a stern finger in his face. His younger brother loomed over him, _the damn moose_ , but he could still square up to him if he wanted to.

“ _Nothing_ has happened, _nothing_ is going on, _nothing_ has changed and that’s the end of it.” Dean stated sharply, his expression hard and final.

But Sam could see straight through Dean; that he was hiding something, packing something away, locking it up and trying so hard to throw away the key. And Dean knew that Sam could see straight through him. They spent every day together and Sam knew him better than anyone else in the world, and vice versa. So there was no hiding anything from Sam, but he could try. He could kid himself just for the sake of another day of not speaking about his fucking _feelings._ How pathetic. He didn’t need to talk about it. There wasn’t even anything to _talk about._

The brothers strolled back to Cas, who had been contently watching humanity out of the window but as the door to the restroom opened, his stare snapped to Dean, with wide eyes. Castiel was upset that he had irritated him but the distress was more caused by the uncertainty of not knowing why. As Dean slid next to Cas and Sam retook his seat opposite his brother, throwing a glance at Cas and acknowledging his direct stare at his brother, Dean’s eyes scanned the diner, decisively ignoring Cas’s existence completely. Sam watched as Dean almost turned his head at a 90 degree angle to ensure he wouldn’t even have to look at him. Sam’s eyebrows knitted together. This was stupid.

Within only a couple of seconds, Debbie, the infuriated waitress, marched over to their table and smashed the plates of food down in front of Sam and Dean and was gone in a blink. Sam flinched at her brutality and Dean sat with his head rolled back, staring to his side awkwardly. But, Dean did see - out of the corner of his eye - the scowl that she gave him as she hurried away. _If looks could kill_ , he thought. Dean looked down at his food and picked up his burger, resting both elbows on the table. All the while, Castiel observed Debbie and Dean.

“I don’t think that waitress favors you, Dean.” Cas muttered, leaning into Dean’s ear as he took a bite of his burger. He chewed it slowly and exhaled a short, quick breath of air. As he swallowed, a small half smile crept across his lips and he looked at Cas, who was also smiling.

Sam tucked into his salad, sick of seeing them stare longingly at one another like they were freakin’… _Oh_.

_Of course._

Sam looked up and watched them, his mouth slightly ajar.

Dean was in love.

_With Castiel._

That would explain his recent outbursts of irrational anger… but then it wasn’t anger really, more like pent up frustration, confusion, _fear_. Man, it was so fucking obvious now. Sam had always had some instinct that something was happening between them but it wasn’t just now, not just after they returned from Purgatory. They had always been like this. They had always been _close_. They had always had a more ‘profound bond’ as Cas said, compared to his own relationship with Castiel. All this time he had been humoring himself that Dean was falling for Cas, sometimes Sam would just think they were secretly trying to cover up their love affair, but _fuck_ this might actually be _true?!_

Dean took another bite out of his burger and held it in his hands, chewing hard and slowly and swallowing deeply. Cas was still smiling at Dean, his eyes scouring over every part of his face. Noting the little crow’s feet when he smiled, counting each freckle that accumulated round his nose and cheeks, his eyes falling down to his full lips. Dean looked back at Cas fondly and Sam couldn’t help but smile, holding the fork full of salad at his mouth as his wide toothy grin grew.

Sam vowed that he would do something about this. He needed to help Dean. Help him to either realize what was actually going on right in front of his freaking face, or help him come out and accept his feelings. That he loved Cas.

Suddenly, Dean slapped the burger down on the plate and rubbed his hands together.

“You know what? Why don’t we have a day off?” Dean said, turning to Sam. “We’ve still got a long way to go so why don’t we just enjoy the ride? Go back to the hotel, grab a few beers, kick back and watch some shitty day time television…”

Sam frowned and nodded.

“Sounds good.”

And that’s exactly what they did. Dean shoved the remainders of their meal into the containers to eat later and drove back to the hotel, stopping off at a local convenience store to buy a crate of beer. Sam, Dean and Cas walked through the parking lot, around the back of the tall building of rooms to a courtyard where the hotel seemed to be structured into an ‘E’ formation of rooms. They walked through the concrete courtyard up to their room, on the bottom floor. Sam unlocked the heavy white door with the keycard and pushed it open to reveal a decent sized room furnished with two queen sized beds, with a shockingly old fashioned patterned quilt thrown flat and smooth over them, a dark wooden table and two chairs by the window on the furthest wall parallel, a bed stand made from the same dark wood which sat between the two beds and a large flat screen television resting on a tall black glass stand, which fitted comfortably in the furthest corner of the room on the right.

Another white door, which was propped open, gave entrance to the en suite, furnished with bright polished white tiles which covered the entirety of the bathroom, a gleaming white bathtub, shower, sink and a toilet. A long desk stood to the right of the entrance, offering a mini-bar, a microwave, a coffee/tea maker and a tray of selected cookies, cups and spoons.

Dean noticed how Sam had placed their duffle bags on either of the beds; his residing on the bed nearest the window. He nodded as they entered and settled the case of beer on the desk as Sam removed his wallet from his pocket from his pants and chucked it carelessly on the side along with the room key. Dean walked over to the bed, picked up his duffle bag, placed it down by the wall and jumped onto the bed with a grunt. Landing flat on his stomach with arms flat across the bed and his face pressed down into the pillow, he sunk into the mattress and sighed happily.

“Aww yeah…” Dean sighed as he rolled over onto his back, reaching for the remote on the bed stand. Sam sat down on his bed, moving his duffle bag over and removing his laptop from its own bag to place it onto the quilt gently. Cas stood patient, observing the hotel room, then removed a seat from the table, turned it round to face the television and sat, adjusting his trench coat as he did so.

“Right let’s see what we’ve got.” Dean muttered, flicking through the channels.

_Teleshopping, telenovella, teleshopping, teleshopping, some day time soap opera thing that played the same 4 episodes on repeat, an old sci-fi movie (seen it, three times, can’t remember the name though), the news, telenovella… holy shit was that Ricardo? But dude, didn’t he commit suicide? How the… oh shit, no that’s not Ricardo. Dude who is this fucker playing around with Bela? You better not fucking hurt her I swear to –_

Sam coughed loudly. Dean had now adopted a position of sat at the end of the bed, inches away from the TV, slouched over with his feet flat on the floor, elbows resting on his knees and remote clutched between his hands. He closed his mouth, which had hung ajar. Well shit, he had clearly forgotten how addictive these shows were. He looked up at Sam and backed up onto his bed, crawling backwards to sit slumped with his back against the wooden headboard.

“Throw me a beer would you?” Dean asked, pulling out the fries from his meal he hadn’t finished. They were cold, but cold fries were better than no fries at all.

“Get it yourself!” Sam scoffed.

“Dude, you’re closer.”

Pulling himself up to the desk with a sigh, Sam huffed over to the desk and pulled out a beer from the crate, throwing it to Dean who caught it easily.

The telenovella lasted all of 40 blissful minutes of escapism in which Dean discovered the new guy on the scene who had replaced Ricardo was called José and, as he suspected, he was indeed fucking around with Bela. From Ricardo’s death, Bela inherited a huge sum of money and the several estates he owned and José here only had one thing on his mind: money. That and revenge. José was the first to give his heart to Bela and they were together for a short amount of time, before they had a domestic, broke up and Ricardo came along with his money bags, suave attitude and thick dark brown tousled locks to mend her broken heart. So Bela chose Ricardo and that’s when José vowed he would have his revenge. So when Ricardo and José played cards and Ricardo thought he lost his fortune at the poker table, he called for a break and committed suicide, leaving Bela vulnerable and weak and searching for solace; in strolled José the grade A douche bag, with hair not nearly as exquisite as Ricardo.

As the credits rolled up, Dean laughed softly. If only life was really as simple as picking who to wed just by the size of their wallets or the curliness of their hair. If only.

Castiel looked to Dean as the program finished; his eyes wide with interest. Maybe he should get curly, tousled hair like Ricardo or José and Dean would fall for him just as Bela did. Television amused Cas greatly, how simplistic everything was, how basic plot lines where, even the commercials were hilariously entertaining or downright consuming. Everything about television was easy. Simple. But television always gave lessons; messages. But maybe the program was right; maybe a handsome hairstyle and a sack full of cash could get you everything you ever wanted in life.

After the novella and another beer, Dean found the old western _Coogan’s Bluff_ , starring Clint Eastwood of course and stuck that on with a content sigh. Sam recognized it immediately, one of Dean’s favorites he played so many times when they were kids; well, whenever it was on the channel of the motel rooms they were in of course. They never did have the luxury of picking the films they watched, just made do with what they were given, just like a lot of things in their childhood. Nostalgia flooded Sam’s mind as he picked up his head from the laptop and closed the lid gently, opting to tune in with the television. Within minutes, Sam was just as engaged as Dean and Cas were.

Another hour and a half passed and Dean began to feel sleepy and in need of another beer. Raising the bottle to his lips, tipping it back and sipping the last few dregs of the alcohol, he threw the empty bottle into the bin that sat next to his bed and sat upright. He closed his eyes and yawned, stretching his folded arms behind him, pointing his elbows up and keeping his hands tucked behind his head. Sam yawned also and opened his laptop again, settling it onto his lap as he sat himself against the headboard of the bed. Castiel turned to look at Dean, watching him stretch, and kept his gaze focused on the hunter. As Dean relaxed and opened his eyes, Cas turned away. Dean thought nothing of it.

“Dean?” Cas asked, not turning around, his eyes searching the floor.

“Mmm?” Dean murmured.

 “Why were you upset with me at the diner?” He turned and their eyes locked. Sam’s ears pricked up and he peered at them without raising his head.

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean said, getting up from the bed with a huff and walking to the desk to grab another beer. Cas rose and followed quickly, standing just inches behind his friend. Dean opened the beer bottle, chucked the bottle lid carelessly to the side and turned to Cas, their faces just over a foot apart. Dean leaned back on the desk, placed one hand onto the surface and held the bottle firmly with the other, keeping it close to his stomach.

Sam peered over the laptop screen and a smile cracked across his face, but disappeared almost immediately. Another opportunity. Well it seemed like today was his lucky day; or should he say _Dean’s_ lucky day. He needed to stay in control. He needed to be careful, tactical but quick. He needed to do something _now_.

Stood staring at each other like something out of a crappy romance film, Dean watched as Cas’s bright, penetrative eyes trailed across his skin, moving slowly down to his mouth, Dean unintentionally wetting his puckered lips with his tongue as it poked out momentarily, his jaw, his neck when suddenly his gaze dropped and Dean felt his breath catch. _Shit._ Cas brought his narrowed eyes back up to stare rapaciously into Dean’s, his chin dipping slightly into his neck to look up at him under his brow. Dean’s eyes squinted and head ticked to the side. As he returned the same hungry gaze. _God he wanted him bad._

The two were so lost in each other’s eyes that they didn’t even realize Sam slowly move the laptop onto the bed, slide off and up onto his feet and walk over to the desk; just ‘planning to get another beer’. He ‘awkwardly’ squeezed past them and tried to remove a bottle from the crate, having great ‘difficulty’. He wanted to see how much he could do without breaking their attention on one another. Clearly, he could fucking crash a plane into their room and they wouldn’t even realize. Dean and Cas remained in their own world and Sam thought this was the best time if ever to do it.

So Sam picked up the bottle, opened it – even though he already had a more than half full bottle sat on the bed side table - and went to squeeze past his brother and the angel. But instead of _squeezing past_ , he ‘slipped’ and let almost all of his weight transfer into his shoulder as he shoved into Castiel, causing him to fall forward onto Dean, their faces and lips colliding. The kiss lasted a split second, Cas withdrawing himself almost as fast as Dean dropping the bottle of beer in his hand and pushing Cas off of him. Sam stood back and looked at the two as they stared at each other, their expressions completely different this time. Cas showed the face of pure shock and contrite, his eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. Dean had the expression of complete and utter terror, the single phrase _‘what the fuck?!’_ bouncing off every wall in his mind. His eyes wandered over Cas for a split second, his worlds fumbling about in his mouth. If Dean didn’t clench his mouth shut immediately, he was sure he would have been standing there floundering like a goldfish.

Instantly, Dean’s expression changed and his mood clicked. His face hardened into anger, embarrassment and fury as his brow dipped, nostrils flared and teeth gritted together. His eyes darted over to his brother who was standing there with a grin, eyes wide and waiting for a reaction.

“SAM!” Dean cried as he watched his little brother clamber over the Queen sized bed and run for the door. He forced Castiel out of the way and chased after him, too late to grab him before he swung open the door and sprinted out into the courtyard. Cas was left with his head hung, his eyes scouring the floor for answers and the look of absolute alarm not fading from his face.

“SsssaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!” Dean yelled after him, his deep voice echoing through the hotel.

Sam cackled loudly as his brother ran after him, his feet pounding the floor heavily.

“GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKIN’ SACK OF SHIT!”

“I’M GONNA FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!”

He ran in circles then zigzagged out into the car park, laughing heartily; he knew that Dean was the fastest runner so he had to do something to slow him down. Due to Sam’s weight and height, he wasn’t exactly that great in running in zigzags himself but he knew that if Dean caught him, he would most definitely be unconscious for at least 72 hours.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOOUUU!”

Hearing Dean get closer and closer still, Sam started laughing harder. He couldn’t take it.

“Cas! CAS! Oh my- Oh my God, CAS! Do something!” Sam called breathlessly. Dean was right behind him, he could probably jump onto him if he tried. “CAAASS!!! DO SOMETHING!!”

Instantly, as Sam zigzagged away again, Castiel appeared in front of Dean and cupped a hand onto his cheek. Dean’s eyes widened and eyebrows arched as Cas appeared then, at the touch, his expression completely relaxed as he blacked out instantly and fell deadweight into Cas’s arms. Cas held him steady and then lowered him down onto the ground; laying Dean with his back flat on the concrete. Sam had stopped and turned as he heard Cas’s wings, leaning over and breathing heavily as he watched.

“What- What the fuck, Cas?” He straightened up.

Castiel stood upright and stared at Sam with wild eyes. He shrugged dramatically.

“I panicked!” 


	4. Chapter 4

With closed eyes, Dean breathed in, his chest rising and falling seeming easier than usual.

His chest felt lighter somehow, like there was nothing weighing it down; no anxiety, no guilt, no nothing. He breathed slowly, effortlessly and he wondered why.

Dean let the breath go, the air escaping through his nostrils, as he rolled over and pressed his face into his pillow. The sheets moved with him, hitching on his knee as he pulled it up to his chest, an instinctive act he'd retained ever since he was a kid, just another way to keep himself protected. The sheet, of course, offered little physical protection but was more of a psychological shield; something he'd convinced himself would keep him safe through the night when his dad wasn't around to do so. The pillow, the quilt and the mattress all felt soft, delicate almost, and  _so freakin' comfortable_  that he wondered why.

Something scratched at Dean's chest and caught on the hairs of the back of his neck. It felt like a chain. He was wearing a chain. He wondered why.

Though the clouds of sleep where thick in his mind, Dean could still feel that there was something off, something that he couldn't put his finger on about his environment, until he noticed just how comfortable and easy and soft everything around him felt. Everything was… calm. There were no screaming sirens, no loud bangs from motel rooms, no damp smell, everything was just… nice.

His eyes opened as he sat up right, his hand searching the nightstand for a gun that wasn't there.

The room was bright, well-lit by the full moon that was framed by the window behind him. It wasn't the motel room he'd fallen asleep in. In fact, it wasn't a motel room at all. He was in a bedroom - a completely normal, average-Joe bedroom. The walls were painted a light cream tinted with a hint of yellow, and were decorated with framed pictures of landscape and photographs of people he couldn't quite make out. The ceiling was washed white with a low hanging lamp in the middle of the room above the bed. The bedroom was warm and comfy and furnished with gleaming hardwood furniture, the wood looking almost golden, matching the floor boards and everything was shining and snug and comfortable and cozy and completely unrecognizable and just everything Dean wasn't used to, even the friggin' bed he was in didn't make sense, it was large and soft and…

Panic seized him quickly, his easy breathing now labored as it rushed in and out of his lungs; he gasped, eyes searching frantically, his hand slipping under his pillow for a knife, maybe his missing gun, anything. He turned, body uncharacteristically ache-free, and was made suddenly very aware of the fact that Dean was not the only one in the room. His vision snapped down to Cas, of all people, sleeping soundly beside him, chest rising and falling smoothly as he turned onto his side.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, a million thoughts racing through his head at once, and all but turned the mattress over as he scrambled out of the bed in a desperate panic.

"Cas," he said, half-shouting in his alarm, and Cas's eyes opened easily.

"Dean," he mumbled, arm searching the bed for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, "Dean, what's going on?"

Cas's concern spreads across his face as he reads Dean; who suddenly felt angry that Cas wasn't losing his shit too. They were just in  _bed_  together, with blankets and snuggling and snoring and Cas was asking what's going  _on_? Dean's mind spun as he swung his head around, looking for an exit, for the quickest way out of this situation, but Cas stopped him before he could do so much as take a step towards the door.

Cas scrambled out of bed and raised his hands up to Dean, palms open and fingers splayed out wide. His breathing was heavy and matches the rise and fall of his shoulders.

"Dean?"

There was something completely wrong about this. That wasn't Cas. Or it  _was_ … but, he seemed more…  _human_ , somehow _._

"What the fuck is going on… Cas?" Dean said quietly, desperately trying to keep a hold on his nerves.

Cas's shoulders dropped and something snapped in his expression. A wash of sadness overcame his face.

"Not again." he whispered as his head shook slightly. Dean's eyebrows knitted together temporarily.

"What-What, what do you mean… not again?" Dean asked, taking a step forward, his shoulders rising like the hackles on a dog, threatened and aggressive in unknown territory. "You tell me what the fuck is going on Cas," His nerves snapped. "RIGHT NOW!"

"Dean…" Cas started, his eyes wide and eyebrows sloped as he backed up.

"What the fuck is  _this_?!" Dean gestured to the best. "Is this a joke? Is this some kind of a fuckin' joke? This is sick,  _this is_ _ **sick**_ _!_ " His rage poured from his tone and his gestures.

"Where am I?" Dean finally shouted as he stopped pacing his side of the room.

"Dean.. Dean, you're at home, okay? With me, you're home…" Cas's voice was low and gentle. He took a cautious step towards Dean.

Eyes gazing around the room, Dean's thoughts scrambled in his mind for a rational explanation. He needed something to focus on and try to help him to understand what the fuck was going _\- What the fuck was_ _ **that?**_

He almost felt sick. Dean's hand slid down to a small framed photograph that sat on the bedside table.

It was of him and Castiel in tuxedos, holding each other with smiles on their faces.

Dean's jaw clenched and he looked up at Cas who for some reason looked hopeful, eyes soft and light and body relaxed.

It was hardly a split second between the smashing of glass as the frame hit the floor with force and Dean grabbing Cas by the collar, slamming him against the wall.

"You have exactly two minutes to tell me what the  _fuck_  is going on before I get  _real_  damn angry." Dean snarled, hissing his words through clenched teeth. Cas squirmed and gripped Dean's wrists, not attempting to pull them away.

"God! Dean! It's me! It's Castiel!" He cried, looking into Dean's hard eyes.

"You're not Cas!" Dean shouted, slamming the imposter against the wall again.

"Of course it's me! It's Cas! I'm your  _husband_!" he yelled desperately. Dean's throat caught. Husband.  _Shit._

The silence between them let Cas breathe and rest his head against the wall, closing his eyes momentarily. Dean's gaze searched over Cas.  _What?_  His mouth opened as he blinked rapidly.  _What?_

Cas lowered his head to look at Dean as he released one of Dean's wrists and went for his chest. He watched with eyes wide, and followed his movement with his head, as a ring on the end of a chain was almost immediately in front of his vision, the chain looping round and settling round his own neck.

"It was too small, remember?" Cas jeered, forehead tipping forward at his final word. Dean released his grip and backed away from him, shaking his head. Cas's body relaxed.

"What the hell…" He whispered, staring at the ring around his neck. He looked up at the photographs on the wall. He could make them out perfectly now.

They were all of him and Cas; on the beach, by a lake, in the woods, on their 'wedding day'… even at Bobby's car salvage…

"What the hell is this, I was- I was just with Sam and-" He was muttering now, almost like talking to himself.

"Me?" Cas finished. "Let me guess in some shady motel room?" Dean's brow dipped.

"How did you-"

"It's the dream again, Dean." Cas sighed, walking round to the side of Dean, leaving some distance between them. "I thought we had sorted this, God knows I've tried…"

"The hell are you talking about… some, some God damn dream?"

Castiel's lips pursed. Dean could see tears in his eyes.

"It's all a dream, Dean. You, me and Sam, travelling the country, hunting monsters and ghosts and angels and demons and…" He was pleading. "It's all in your head, baby."

Dean shook his head.

"No… no, I just came from there, I-"

"No, Dean!" Cas yelled, a tear squeezing from the corner of his eye and he stepped forward and grabbing Dean's grey nightshirt between his fists, pounding his chest once. Dean's arms flinched. "God damn, no,  _this_  is real. _I'm_  real. That world, with you, me and Sam being hunters or whatever, that's all fake! It's made up! It's in your head!"

It was barely after Cas cried the last word that Dean had his hands on Castiel again and swung him back against the wall, his nostrils flaring and jaw clenched. But this time, Cas wasn't playing the little rag doll again. He fought back. And he was strong, by God was he strong. It only took a small scuffle, a shoulder barge to the stomach and a swift movement from Cas using Dean's momentum and weight to his disadvantage and Dean was in exactly the same position as Cas was.

Cas's hands held Dean's shoulders firmly as another tear fell from his eye.

"STOP IT!" Cas shouted. Dean froze, breathing heavily.

"Look around you, Dean! You think all of this is fake, all these  _memories_? Do you not remember any of them?!" Dean's eyes scoured the room at the photographs. " _This_ is what's real, Dean! Please, Dean…"

"But Sam…"

"He's in Stanford… with Jess!"

Jess.

Stanford.

"He's…" Dean whispered; his face almost white with shock. How the fuck was he supposed to process all of this? "But…"

"None of that is real Dean. You know what's real? This." Castiel grabbed the chain around Dean neck and tugged at it. "Me and you." He grabbed Dean's hand and forced the ring into his palm. "Us!  _That's_  what real." Dean looked at the golden band.

A sad smile accompanied Cas's shaking head.

"Not angels. Not demons. Not…  _ghosts._ " he chuckled. "You and me."

Cas's hands grabbed at Dean's shoulder and neck. Dean found his hands gripped onto Cas's firm forearms. He couldn't believe it, like he literally could not believe what Cas was saying. He had no recollection of this place at all, no memories, no nothing; this life was completely foreign to him. But shit he wanted to believe it so bad. But he couldn't. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had had this feeling of complete uncertainty before, like he had been somewhere like this before. Dean's eyes widened. Of course, the Djinn. Back when Sam and him were hunting it and it strung him up and sent him to his paradise when Sam was with Jess and Mom was- and Dad was dead and everything was good, back before he met Cas.

But, this couldn't have been Djinn. He was just in a motel room was Sam, when the kiss – Oh shit the kiss – then he chased Sam outside and all he could remember from then was Cas's face and a hand cupped on his cheek and…

That was it.

This was Cas's fault.

This was Cas's doing.

Dean's eyes softened as he stared back at Cas, whose lips were squeezed together. Why would Cas do this? Send him to an alternative universe to show him… show him, what? What is would be like if they were together? What it would be like if circumstances were different? Is this Cas's way of showing him that he feels the same?  _Fuck knows._

But it was then when Cas, well _this_  Cas in  _this_  universe, leaned forward and kissed him; his body rolling into Dean's as their mouths met. Dean's eyebrows arched and eyes widened. Cas's eyes were squeezed shut as tears poured down his cheek. It was shock at first but then, completely naturally and almost at once, Dean lost himself with him. His hands moved to Cas's waist and pulled him in closer. Cas grinded into him, pressing Dean further up against the wall.  _Shit_ , kissing Cas like this, only in a dream.

If this  _was_ all a dream, or if this  _was_  all Cas's doing, he didn't care. He could lose himself.

Right here, right now.

With Cas.

Slipping his hands up to Dean's neck and face, finger nails digging into his skin as the pace quickened, Cas moaned breathlessly into Dean's mouth. He was so warm and soft and firm and who even knew kissing him would taste and feel this good. There was a slight saltiness of Cas's tears to his taste but it just felt right. All of it. Dean could feel Cas's smile grow in his lips as his own smile grew too.

But just as Dean's hands travelled up Cas's shirt and padded at his waist, Cas pulled away, pressing his forehead against Dean's; his eyes closed, smiling and mirroring Dean unintentionally. Dean grinned, opened his eyes and chuckled. Cas's hands smoothed down Dean's body and came to rest on his chest. His eyes were full of happiness. Like he had conquered a milestone.

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes rested to a close.

"Best damn dream I've ever had."

He felt their foreheads part and Dean lifted his head to find Cas staring at him. He looked sad. Hopeless. Lost. Broken.

Castiel cupped a hand onto Dean's cheek. He swallowed heavily and shook his head. His voice was soft and quiet, almost a whisper.

"Oh, Dean."


	5. Chapter 5

"It's not my place to say, Cas…"

Sam's voice, slightly raised and a little distressed, was what woke him.

Consciousness tugged at Dean, face down in the covers of his bed and half-cuddling a pillow, as he slowly checked back in to reality. With a groan from his neck, Dean gradually rolled his head onto the side, pressed his cheek deep into the pillow and squinted his eyes open to see Sam and Cas, standing at the end of Sam's bed. Sam was stood with his back to Dean, with his shoulders pulled back, arms crossed defensively across his chest and his feet spread apart whilst Cas stood opposite, his view of Dean obscured by Sam, with his shoulders dropped, his head tipped towards Sam and his arms hanging loosely by his side. Dean slowly shuffled his body to a more comfortable position on his side, facing away from the pair; each one of his joints creaking with his movement.

He waited and listened; his eyes wide open.

"It wasn't accidental though, was it, Sam?" Cas continued.

Good. They still thought he was sleeping.

"That kiss?" Cas continued.

Dean's eyebrows rose slightly.

He could hear the soft shuffling of shoes scraping against carpet; Sam moving about no doubt. He had a habit of stepping around a bit when things got awkward.

"I may be quite… 'rusty' when it comes to social interaction, but I'm not stupid."

Silence.

"I just…" Sam said finally. "I just didn't expect him to respond like that. It sort of blew up in my face, I guess."

Further silence.

This was getting uncomfortable.

Sam cleared his throat.

More movement from Sam.

"I heard your conversation with Dean in the diner bathroom." Cas finally said.

Dean's eyes widened and his brow dipped. _How…_

"How did you…"

"I can hear everything - I'm a celestial being, you ass."

_Fuck._

"And by everything… you mean…"

Castiel sighed.

"Everything. Yes."

Sam stopped shuffling. Dean felt a knot in his stomach.  _Damn._

"Dean is… confusing," Cas continued, slowly. "He's extremely difficult to understand. Reading human's emotions by their body language is hard enough, but, Dean is a whole… 'other kind of crazy' – so you say. His displays of affection towards me are highly contradictory… and make it almost impossible for me to differentiate what his actual sentiments are… where his true feelings lie…"

There was another pause.

"I…I don't know what to do." Cas muttered, his voice breaking.

Dean's stern face softened.

There was a pain in Castiel's voice that Dean hadn't heard since Cas was possessed by the Leviathans; after he had his fun pretending to be God and when he finally saw sense and decided return the souls back to Purgatory.

Dean remembered it all well, just before opening the portal and before the Leviathans took control; when Cas swore to Dean that he would find some way to redeem himself to him and that he meant it, that he  _really_ meant it. He could still clearly recall the look of complete hopelessness in Cas's eyes, the broken beaten shell of an angel that he once knew.

Dean blinked rapidly.

"Like I said, Cas, it's not my place to say…" Sam's voice was soft and understanding. "You'll just have to ask him, okay?"

More silence. No movement.

"Talk to him."

Dean's chest tightened. He had just about had enough of this emotional bull shit.

After another long pause, Dean heard the scuffling of Sam's boots on the carpet and the creaking of the bathroom door opening.

"If it's any consolation, Sam, I just want you to know that… in regards to your brother, I do truly-"

And that was it.

Dean rolled over, bed creaking with his sudden movement; cutting Cas off abruptly. He propped himself up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes with the other as he yawned dramatically.

For a moment, Dean looked between Sam and Cas expectantly; lips pursed together and both eyebrows raised, though one just slightly higher than the other since he never was able to master the art of raising one eyebrow like the cowboys in the movies.

"What the hell just happened?" He yawned.

Cas and Sam exchanged a glance. Dean squinted at Cas.

"Did you knock me out?"

Sitting up and swinging his legs round to the side of the bed, flattening his feet onto the floor, a sudden surge of pain spread like fire inside of Dean's head.

" _Shit_!" Dean hissed through his teeth.

It was instant, sharp and intense and seemed to burn every part of his brain. With a groan, he gripped his forehead with his hands, resting his elbows on his knees, and smoothed them up to the top of his head, clenching his hair with his fingers and digging his fingernails into his scalp.

Sam and Cas moved towards Dean instantly; both of their faces alert with concern.

"Try chloroform next time," Dean spat, pushing himself up to his feet with help from the wooden headboard. " _Fuck_ , I feel like crap…"

Dean wavered and stumbled forward into Cas; who caught him by the arm. Dean grabbed hold of the headboard again and steadied himself, brushing off Cas's grip.

"I'm okay, I'm okay!" He said, clearing his throat. "Dude, what did you do to me?"

Cas paused and looked Dean over.

"Did you experience any dreams whilst you were unconscious?" He asked with a deadpan expression. Dean looked up at Cas, glanced at Sam, who shrugged, and raised his eyebrows.

"Dreams?"

"Yes."

"What like,  _wet_ dreams?" Dean scowled .

Cas's eyebrows fell and his eyes squinted together.

"Dean." Sam said sternly. Dean rolled his eyes.

Unexpectedly, Cas placed a hand onto Dean's forehead.

"I think you are experiencing an extreme migraine…" Cas muttered, his eyebrows still knitted together.

" _You think?!_ " Dean exclaimed, pulling his head back away from Cas's touch.

"Hold still."

Cas delicately returned his palm to Dean's forehead and pressed in gently. The pain faded gradually from a roaring blaze, to a sharp sting and was gone in seconds. As Castiel removed his hand, his eyes dropped to the floor momentarily and he took a step back.

"…Thanks."

Cas looked up with a smile and swallowed.

"Dean, I uh- the kiss…"

It was a split second of confusion, like Dean had almost forgotten that it had happened, before recollection hit him like a truck; standing a little too close to Cas, Sam "accidentally" barging Cas into him, their mouths colliding, the shock, the anger, running after Sam as he galloped out of the motel room faster than he could blink - hell, that kid could run, then finally Cas appearing in front of him. The last thing he remembered was Cas's touch on his cheek before he blacked out.

Dean glared at Sam, who immediately closed the bathroom door, a smile playing around his panic stricken face.

_That son of a bitch._

"I just wanted to-"

"Forget about it, Cas." Dean interrupted, inadvertently wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Castiel stepped back as Dean shoved past him and out of the narrow gap between the two beds.

He stood with his back to Cas. "That kiss was a mistake.."

Dean's eyelids fell close and his jaw clenched hard.

"It was a mistake, okay?" He repeated firmly.

Dean turned to face Castiel, whose eyes were wide like an innocent child being disciplined for coloring on the walls when in fact it was their sibling all along; like a puppy being told off for littering in the house when it didn't know any better; like Sam when John scolded him when he cried the first time he shot a bird.

He took a deep, sharp breath through the nostrils and his face remained hard.

"It didn't mean anything," The lies stuck to his tongue like a bitter taste.

As Sam opened the bathroom door, Dean cleared his throat and threw Cas one short glance; long enough to state that the conversation was over. Sam emerged from the bathroom slowly as Dean lifted his head and looked his brother over.

"You two…" Sam exchanged a look between his brother and Cas. "…good?" He ticked his head forward with the word.

Dean nodded with a frown.

"Course."

Sam nodded slowly as his eyes travelled to Cas; with his chin dipped into his chest, eyes trailing across the floor.

"Okay," Sam cleared his throat.

Dean's gaze eagerly searched for a conversation changer. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed.

"What time is it?"

A single sunbeam poked through the curtains and burned onto the floor.

"About 8 o'clock," Sam answered, with a nod.

"In the morning?"

"No… it's just sunny because it's night," Sam said sarcastically, narrowing his eyes.

Dean glared at Sam.

"Hilarious. How long was I out?"

"Just coming up to 17 hours," Cas chimed, looking up from the floor and fixing on Dean's surprised expression.

" _17 hours?_ " Dean repeated, shifting his body to face Cas.

"Well exactly 16 hours and 43 minutes."

Dean looked from Cas to Sam.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Figured you could do with the rest," Sam said.

"What the hell did you do in that time?"

"Sam researched and I…" Cas paused for an obvious dramatic effect. Dean raised his eyebrows. "…watched television."

A smug smile spread across his face.

"You watched television…  _for 17 hours_?"

"Yep." The grin grew wider. Sam looked at Dean and smirked; his face was a picture.

"And you  _researched_ ," Dean continued, turning his head to Sam, "for 17 hours?"

"I had to sleep too…" Sam began with a shrug.

"You didn't think about going out, getting a drink… maybe even getting laid…" Dean butted in, throwing his arms out and slapping them down on his side.

Sam pursed his lips together and rolled his eyes.

"Check outs at 10, I've loaded the car so we were just waiting on you." Sam said, changing subject. He opened the door to the hotel room and grabbed the keys from the desk.

"Well I'm glad nobody kissed me awake," Dean scoffed under his breath as he marched out of the room. Cas picked up his head and eyes narrowed.  _Was that a normal thing human's did?_

Sam peered round the room once more after Cas had walked out the door. Leaving the beds untidy, damp towels left on the floor and several empty beer bottles on the desk and bed side table, Sam closed the door and the three set off towards the parking lot; Sam and Dean with large synchronized strides. Cas noticed they did this a lot and tried to copy, but more often than not he got himself more out of rhythm than he was originally.

"So did you find anything in your research?" Dean asked sarcastically, glancing up at Sam.

"Tell you in the car."

Passing through reception, with Dean earning a less than subtle wink from Jerry as they left, the boys were soon back on the long, winding roads of North Dakota.

During the 5 hour drive to the city of Northwood, Sam reported to Dean on the findings of his research. The city of Northwood had been the scene of a recent massacre, which took place in a small, humble diner towards the south of the town. A young woman and a middle aged man, who both worked there (and that being their only connection), have been arrested and are due to be prosecuted for murder of 26 innocent people, 4 of which were working with them that night. It was reported that every living person at the diner was brutally slaughtered and the two fled the scene.

"Okay… so how is this weird? Might just be two nut jobs who hated their job? Like,  _really_  hated their job." Dean asked; one hand on the wheel.

"Thing is," Sam said, leaning his elbow on the car door, "when they were arrested; they were both at home, asleep or awake with their partner. Neither of them was due to work that night and they  _both_ have alibis that they didn't do it… but they've got actual footage from the CCTV at the diner of them killing  _everyone_."

"Two places at once…" Dean muttered.

Sam looked at Dean with raised eyebrows. Dean threw him a glance.

"Damn. We got ourselves a shapeshifter."

"Well there's definitely two… there could be more…"

Dean pouted, nodding his head slowly.

As they reached Northwood, Dean pulled into the gas station. Whilst he filled Baby up, leaning against her and smoothing his two fingers delicately over some new found scratches, Sam stepped into the small store to buy some food; including pie for Dean, preferably apple – "though pecan will do".

Cas stood next to Dean, contently watching human's pull into the gas station, fill their vehicle up and drive away; their faces bleak and expressionless with their mechanical movements. He wondered why none of them stopped to engage in conversation with one another. He watched as a mother wheeled her empty pushchair out of the store and called after her child who ran ahead; his tiny feet patting the ground frantically and his arms swinging by his sides to match his excitement. Cas's lips curved into a discrete smile, one that hung around as he watched the mother pick up her child, press her lips to his cheek and blow air onto his skin, creating a noise Castiel had never heard before and one which made the child screech with laughter.

"Dean?" Cas asked inquisitively. Dean looked round as he placed the gas pump nozzle back into the holder. "What is that noise?"

Dean's eyes followed the direction of Cas's stare. He chuckled lightly.

"She's giving him a raspberry, Cas."

Confusion washed over Cas's face.

"I don't see her handing the child any fruit?"

"It's just, what it's called. Giving someone a raspberry, it's like… blowing on their skin to make a farting sound. I used to do it to Sam all the time when he was sad."

Cas eye's focused on Dean.

"And this is… funny?"

"Kids love it." Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Cas nodded slowly and continued watching the mother and child with bewilderment as Dean scoffed through his nose, dropped his gaze to the floor and shook his head at him. He picked up his eyes and looked towards the store just as Sam strolled out with a plastic bag in one hand.

Castiel looked round as Sam approached them.

"I just talked to the guy behind the counter…" Sam began.

"Good for you." Dean interrupted.

"…and get this, he actually knew the woman who was arrested. Nice girl apparently, wouldn't harm anyone…"

"Yeah, that's what they all say."

"Bright, funny, went to this games club night they had running with three other people which was the night before the massacre at the diner, but she had also been working before she turned up to the games night, so I asked him if he saw anything weird , you know, the usual, and he said that she told the group that when she was asked to record this video for some girl blowing out her cake, she could have sworn she saw some guy's eyes glowing during the whole of the video."

"Retinal flare."

"Exactly."

"Nice." Dean opened the door to the impala and climbed in, followed shortly by Sam and Cas almost simultaneously. "Guess we'll be ganking a few tonight. Where's the diner?"

"South of the city, on 4th Avenue NE."

"Awesome. Did the guy behind the counter…"

"Leon."

Dean raised his eyebrows and turned to face Sam.

"Leon?"

"Yeah, his name was Leon." Sam said, nodding.

"Okay then, so did  _Leon_ tell you if there's anywhere to stay round here?"

"There's a motel round the corner, it's nice apparently."

"Did you get any other information? Likes… dislikes…" Sam sighed. Dean continued. "Maybe his phone number, or, or, how about - his favorite positions in bed?"

"Shut up." Sam scowled. Dean smirked and switched on the engine, pulling away from the gas station and towards the 'Northwood Inn', so creatively titled.

Once the car was parked, the boys clambered out of the car and took a duffle bag from the trunk; Cas insisting on carrying Dean's bag as well as the one crammed with an arsenal of weapons. Sam playfully pouted at Dean, with a "oOOoOOoh!" which received a blow to the arm, as Cas strolled on purposefully towards the entrance. Slamming the trunk close and locking the car, Dean and Sam followed close behind.

It took just seconds for them to get a room with the help from an extremely unsociable receptionist. She was a large dark skinned woman, of around mid-30s, who's stern, hard expression, which was either a rather unfortunate resting face or she really didn't like Saturday mornings, was emphasized further by the folds in her face, causing her eyes to look like slits, her dipped brow and her plumped cheeks and pouted lips. She barely gave Sam, Dean and Cas a second look when they entered; she practically had the keys ready to throw at them as they walked in. No name tag. No greeting. Jerry from the former hotel was almost like a God of customer service.

Moments later, Dean stuck the key into the lock and swung the door open to their motel room.

"Not too shabby." He shrugged. "Guess Leon was right."

Dean winked at Sam.

It was a basic two double bed room, not with any complimentary features like the last hotel but it would do; the carpet was clean, the bathroom didn't smell of mould and there weren't any holes in the ceiling, and that's all that mattered. There was a small TV in the corner of the room with a cheap couch sat in front. Whilst Sam and Cas slung the bags onto the beds, Dean immediately walked into the bathroom and switched on the shower. He frowned as the water trickled out slowly. No nice hot shower tonight then.

"How many silver bullets we got?" Dean asked as he marched out from the bathroom.

Sam opened one of the duffle bags, removing two shotguns before reaching a smaller black flat pouch, wrapped into a tube. He rolled it out on the bed and in the slots of the pouch shone 8 silver bullets.

"Eight." Sam stated.

"Eight?" Dean repeated, coming over to stand next to his brother. "Fuck, I thought we had more."

"Well let's just pray that there's not more than eight."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah. Pray. That's done a fat load of good in the past."

Sam glanced over at Cas who looked hurt. The angel turned away and sat himself in front of the television, switching the screen on. It hummed to a start and burst into light.

Dean took a seat on the edge of what he had claimed to be his bed, removed his gun from his belt of his pants and started taking it apart slowly. Sam mirrored his actions, removing a stained piece of cloth from one of the duffle bags and cleaned each part. Lifting his head to watch his brother, Dean held his gun between his hands and fingered the barrel. Then, he began to take his gun apart and piece it together once more, faster and faster as he went, all the while glancing up at Sam who was staring at him with a less than amused expression. Dean cocked the last piece into place and smirked at Sam, flashing his eyebrows.

"Are we really going to do this?" Sam sighed.

"What? You gettin' slow?" Dean teased.

Cas turned his head round from the screen and peered over the back of the couch. Picking his head up and acknowledging Cas's attention, Dean playfully clicked his neck and rolled up his sleeves and he placed his gun down in front of him, synchronized with Sam.

"Okay…" Sam sighed. "After 3… 1…"

Dean grabbed his gun and started pulling it apart, leaving Sam to jump and take his apart behind him; his face seething with anger.

"You cheated!" He spat, focusing on the gun.

Cas stood up and walked round slowly, Dean glancing up at him just momentarily as he slid, clicked and twisted the parts apart then back together. Then, almost immediately and almost simultaneously, Dean and Sam slammed their guns down besides them onto the mattresses of the bed.

"Done!" They shouted aggressively at one another. They both looked to Cas.

Cas paused for dramatic effect.

"Sam was quicker."

"Ha!" Sam cried.

"-Hey I call for a re-do!"

"What are you like  _four_?"

"I want a God damn re-do!"

"I ain't doing a re-do! You lost, you sore… little… loser." Sam smirked.

Dean pouted.

"Well I'm still better than you at everything else." Dean swung his legs round onto the bed and threw his head back into the pillow. Sam scoffed.

"Sam," Cas started. "Would you be able to teach me how to…"

Dean sat up.

"Take a gun apart?" Sam finished Cas's sentence.

Cas nodded. "Yes."

Sam looked at Dean. He smiled. Boy, this was going to be funny. "Yeah, take a seat, Cas."

Dean's jaw clenched. Sam handed Cas the gun and began explaining how to hold it before preparing to take it apart. Watching as their hands brushed over one another clumsily, Dean felt himself grow more and more irate.  _Why didn't Cas ask me?_  He thought.  _I could have shown him how to take a gun apart._

All the while Cas was taking the gun apart and he was directing him what parts to slide, click and twist out and back into place, Sam was trying to hide a grin. He knew  _exactly_ what he was doing. Trying to wind each other up was a past time for the brothers, but  _this_  was by far the best way to see Dean get irritated. Sam placed his hands into his lap and watched as Cas took the gun apart slowly.

Dean snapped at when Sam said he was doing well. He threw himself up out of the bed and stomped over to the couch and pretended to watch T.V. Sam almost burst out laughing. Cas continued onwards.

But Dean couldn't stop himself from peering behind him to watch for a second.

Then he just got angry again.

_Why didn't he ask me, for fuck's sake?_

Jealousy wasn't an emotion Dean was particularly used to.

He wasn't exactly angry at Sam, neither was he exactly angry at Cas. He didn't really know who he was angry at. He just knew that he was angry. Or jealous. No, angry. Jealous.

Definitely jealous.

Then, Dean heard the familiar two final clicks of the gun, the cocking of it into place, then Cas was almost instantly right by his side; his face beaming with pride and enthusiasm.

"Look, Dean!"

Dean glanced at the gun and back to the television screen, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.  _Oh great,_  Sam thought.  _Now he's sulking._

Cas's nose wrinkled as he screwed his face up. He walked in between Dean and the television screen.

"Cas, get outta the way," Dean spat, his eyes refusing to meet Cas's, muttering the last few words of, "you're always in the God damn way."

Cas straightened up. Sam, in an instant, rose from the bed and widened his eyes.  _Oh shit._

Slowly, Castiel removed himself from obscuring Dean's vision from the T.V. and stood at the arm of the couch. He placed the gun down carefully onto the table besides them, rolled his shoulders back and narrowed his eyes.

"I'm sorry. Dean." Cas said quietly, bitterly. There was something scathing and sharp in his tone, something almost sarcastic that gave Dean a chill as he glanced up at him with a harsh yet nervous eye. Cas loomed over him like a great, dark shadow, his eyes narrowed now not out of confusion but of intimidation. Sam stepped forward.

"Cas…" Sam said, his tone unable to hide the concern he had. Castiel looked round at Sam and smiled bitterly.

"No need to intervene, Sam. Dean has made it quite clear how he feels."

A beating of wings. Cas disappeared.

Dean looked around, eyes wide. His eyes stopped at Sam. Disappointment radiated from his demeanor.

"What?" Dean spat.

"You are fuckin' unbelievable sometimes, Dean. You know that?"

Dean stood up, marched round the couch and leant against the back of it. He crossed his arms across his chest as he pulled his shoulders back.

"He heard our conversation in the diner, Dean."

"I know."

Sam's brow dipped.

"I was awake, when you two were talking. About the… the kiss."

"Why did you even do that, running away from him when-"

"-Because that was out of fuckin' line, Sammy!" Dean shouted.

"You needed it! Gave you a wakeup call, didn't it?" Sam's voice rose. "Dude, come on. We both know what's going on here. I don't care what happened at Purgatory, even if anything happened at Purgatory, I don't care… I, I just want you to be honest with yourself, man."

Dean lurched forward and stuck a finger in Sam's face.

"Sam, you need to shut your mouth before I shut it for you."

Sam slapped Dean's hand out of his face and pushed him back.

"Dean, you're so far up your own ass you won't even acknowledge what's going on! It's so fucking obvious!"

The two stared at each other; nostrils flaring, shoulders square and pulled back with their chins raised. Complete mirrors of one another. The brothers they were. Dean's jaw was clamped shut; his jaw tensing constantly.

"Come on, man." Sam said quietly, rolling his head. "You helped me with girls more times than I can remember," he smiled, "so I guess I'm just returning the favor."

"I don't need help with-"

"-Cas?"

"No. God, why does it matter?" Dean spat.

"Because it's eating you up! I see how you look at him, Dean. I see how  _he_  looks at  _you_. God damn, you just need to let me in and talk to me about it, you know. Why won't you just talk about it, Dean?"

"What is there to talk about?!" Dean shouted, again walking towards Sam, then backing off and swerving round the couch looking for a beer bottle or something to occupy his hands, stop that itch that will eventually end with a lamp's cold corpse. "What is there to talk about, huh? How I've got some stupid crush on Cas? Is that it? Really?" Dean stopped and threw his hands out to the side. "Do you know why I don't talk about it, Sam? Because I've felt this way for a fuckin' long time and I don't know what to do! I don't know what to do! I'm scared, Sam. I'm fuckin'- I'm fucking terrified!"

Sam stayed rooted to the spot.

"I've never felt this, this… this strongly about a fuckin' guy... and... DAMN IT!"

Suddenly and almost inevitably, Dean swung for a lamp. It crashed onto the floor with a satisfying smash. Sam had Dean's arms gripped tight within seconds. With his eyes wet, Dean stared at Sam with no hard expression to mask his feelings. This was raw.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey." Sam said quickly, taking one hand up to the side of his brother's neck and clasping his face. "It's okay, Dean. It's okay."

"I don't know what to do, Sam. I'm gonna lose him, Sam, I know I am… I lose everyone I've ever cared about, except you."

"No, Dean." Sam said firmly. "We're a team, right? Me, you and Cas? It's gonna always be like that, you hear me? The three of us. Team Free Will, you remember?" They smiled at that. "You're gonna talk to him about… however you feel and I'm gonna be here for you, every step of the way. He feels the same; I know he does, Dean. Since day one. You two have got that 'profound bond' bullshit, right?" They sniggered. Tears glistened in Sam's eyes. "You just need to get it out there, man."

The brothers held one another; Dean with Sam's plaid shirt clenched in between his fists and Sam with one hand now slapped onto Dean's shoulder and the other on his arm.

Finally, Sam was getting the chance to take care of Dean. Properly.

Breathing heavily through his nostrils and patting Sam's chest, Dean removed his grip from his brother's shirt and wiped his eyes with the backs of his hand. Sam's face was smiling bigger than he's seen in a long time.

"Thanks, Sammy."

Sam nodded. Dean's gaze fell down to the remains of the poor lamp.

"Guess we'll be paying for that, then." Dean said with a chuckle. Sam shook his head and laughed.

"You and lamps." Sam said with an exaggerated sigh. "Look, I'm gonna go out, get a beer or something, and you pray for him to get his ass down here… then you two talk it out."

Dean scoffed.

"I don't need to do jack what you tell me, you're  _my_  snot nosed little brother and you do what  _I_  say, it's always been like that and it will always remain that way. We clear?"

"Just get him down here, you jackass." Sam said, retreiving his gun from the couch and slipping it into his belt at his back. He walked up to Dean and held out his hand, palm to the ceiling, cocking his head to the side. "I'll take the key to the impala too so you don't drive off or do somethin' stupid."

Reluctantly, Dean pulled the keys to the impala out of his pocket and dropped them into Sam's hand.

"You leave any shit in my baby and I'll kill you." Dean declared.

"Talk to him."

"Shut up."

"Cas…" Dean cleared his throat. Sitting on the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees, back arched over and fingers threaded together, he looked up at the ceiling. His eyes trailed over the walls. The lamp had been scraped up and placed into the small wastepaper basket that sat next to one of the beds; it didn't exactly fit but it was out of the way.

"Cas, buddy, I know you're listening. And you probably heard all that too… I'd be over the friggin' moon if you didn't but… I gotta talk to you man."

Dean looked outside the window. It was getting dark. Suddenly feeling awkward, he rose from the bed and wandered around the room slowly, taking each footstep heavily.

"So… would you be able to get your pretty little angel ass down here, so we can… talk?"

Dean stopped and closed his eyes.

"Please?"

His wings were heard as Dean opened his eyes to see Cas stood between the television and the couch, facing Dean. His features were heavy with emotion and his eyes still retained that bitter intimidation before he disappeared.

"Please don't tell me that you heard what me and Sam were just talkin' about…" Dean started, moving slowly towards Cas.

Cas shook his head slowly.

"I tuned out of the conversation because I figured you and your brother needed a bit of privacy."

Dean frowned.

"You wanted to apologize?" Cas questioned, pursing his lips and shifting uncomfortably, with a furrowed brow of discontent.

"No- I… I mean yes but, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Dean shuffled his weight between each foot as he crossed his arms across his chest, uncrossed them and dangled them by his sides, then brought them up and fiddled with his fingers. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then bit down on the side of his mouth. He stuck his hands into his pockets.

"Do you… like it here?"

Cas's expression was deadpan.

"Like… do you like…  _being_  here?" Dean continued gradually after no avail.

"I preferred the days when heaven was a sanctuary and paradise for angels but after it all fell to ruin and chaos… I think earth is nice, yes, and living with humans is fascinating. You  _are_  one of God's best creations after all."

"No I mean…" Dean cleared his throat. This was harder than he expected. "do you like it here… with… me and Sam?"

Cas's shoulders dropped slightly and he tipped his head to the side, taking small, slow steps towards Dean.

"Yes, of course."

Dean nodded slowly, spread his feet wider apart and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why would you ever doubt that?" Cas questioned, his eyes full of apprehension. He stopped when they were merely one meter apart; again, personal space was an aspect that Cas continued to ignore.

Dean shrugged.

"Uh, I just- I thought you would have been missing heaven, I mean- heaven is your home…"

Cas took one more step forward and shook his head fervently.

"Heaven is no longer my home, Dean."

Biting his lips between his teeth, Dean watched Cas swallow hard.

"My home is here," Cas continued, his voice quiet and soft. "With you."

Dean felt his breath hitch. He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. He just wanted to say it.

"Cas, I-"

_Brrrr, Brrrr_

Dean's eyes widened.

_Brrrr, Brrrr_

Cas's brow furrowed.

Dean delved his hand deep into his pocket and brought out his vibrating phone.

It was Sam.

"Perfect timing, Sam, as always," Dean growled, pacing away from Cas as he brought the phone up to his ear. "I swear to God you son of a-"

"Dean?" Sam interrupted. Panic immediately gripped Dean's heart. His brother's voice was raspy, shaky and lower than usual. Something was wrong.

"What's going on, Sam?"

"Get down to the diner. 4th Avenue NE. Stat."

Dean turned to Cas as he hung up the call.

"What's wrong?" Cas asked, his voice an aura of calm.

"Sam. He's at the diner where the shifters attacked. Something's happened."

And with that, Cas vanished.

After an exclamation of "son of a bitch!" and a rather elaborate display of manic arm movements as Dean rushed about trying to collect his gun, the 8 silver bullets, the demon knife and money for a cab, he stopped dead in the middle of the hotel room and sighed.

"Sam's got the gear in the trunk…" Dean shook his head in exasperation and stormed out of the room, plunging the hotel room keys into his pocket. His gun and a small whimsy knife will have to do.

Within seconds, Cas stood outside the diner in where the recent massacre had taken place. Grey clouds billowed overhead, threatening to release a fine sheet of light rain that Cas felt would come any second. The afternoon air felt humid and heavy, but not hot.

As Cas walked towards the diner and took the first precautious steps up to the entrance, Cas noticed that he diner stood, barely, completely gutted but was bandaged with bright yellow police tape, flashing its infamous warning of 'POLICE LINE: DO NOT CROSS.' Windows were smashed into fragments of what they once were, blood stained pieces of glass and broken wood from the once impressive tables laid disregarded both inside and outside of the diner; pieces of ceiling from the once white, now bloodstained, porch surrounding the front entrance hung desperately to their former place. Remains of tables and chairs, glasses and plates were scattered and smashed around the floor, where blood soaked into the carpet and the last chunks of flesh or tufts of hair rotted. As he walked slowly to the door, itself hanging uneasily on its hinges where tears of fabric clung and scratches of nails were engraved into the wood, Cas awed at the pure destruction. He had seen a plentiful amount of murder scenes, bloody battles and wars but not one that illustrated so much savagery in a condensed area.

The clouds thickened and darkened until they were nearly impenetrable by the sun. The diner was silent, spare Cas's footsteps crunching on glass, and dark.

From what he remembered, 'Shapeshifters' were mentioned by Sam and Dean. But this… seemed like  _more_  than just one or two Shapeshifter's doing. Cas stepped over a board of wood, formerly the entrance gate to the diner's kitchen, and stepped vigilantly around the small area. He lowered his angel blade and gripped it tight for reassurance.

"Sam?" Cas said, taking slow, steady steps. The emergency backdoor stood at the back left of the diner, seemingly untouched save the blood stain of a dragged handprint, and the wooden counter painted in a deep blue was to the right of him. Another heavy door was behind the counter, maybe to the kitchen of the diner.

Suddenly, Cas heard a noise. It was a shuffling, a small, faint, almost unidentifiable noise. He turned his body side on and concentrated on the sound.

"Sam?" He said again, softer this time.

"Cas?" A voice whispered, coming from a different direction. His eyes darted to Sam's voice, who appeared behind one of many wooden beams that were scattered throughout the diner, adding to the once appealing aesthetic of the restaurant. Sam strode towards Cas, tarnished with patches of blood.

"Sam, are you all right?"

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked quickly, looking around behind Cas.

"He's coming, I- I left without hesitation, I'm sorry."

Sam nodded. "It's okay. There's a hell of a lot of shifters out back, Cas, I did the best that I could to fight off the ones that got to me, but shit, Cas, there's a few. And they're coming..."

Cas was nodding along to Sam's story but lost concentration quickly as he looked around with wide yet concentrated eyes. His gaze accidentally drifted to a wide gap in the counter, a stool lying just next to it. There, almost hidden from sight behind the shattered bars of wood that made up the counter, was a large pile of light pink flesh. Skin. Cas's eyes moved quickly to Sam, who was staring around the diner intently and ignoring Cas. Cas narrowed his eyes.

Sam looked at Cas immediately.

"What is it, Castiel?"

Cas drew his angel blade up and thrust it into Sam's heart. Sam simultaneously watched the blade plunge into his body and wrapped his hands around it in an unfortunate attempt to prevent the attack.

"You're not Sam Winchester." Cas grunted, bearing his teeth.

The Shapeshifter's body twitched and rippled as the spasm of death flickered through its body. Light flashed and pulsated through parts of its abdomen. The Shapeshifter slowly raised its twitching head up and stared into Cas's eyes. It's own glowing yellow irises fixated on Cas. With a sick crooked smile on it's lips, one that Cas would never have dreamt to have seen from Sam, it coughed a disheartening chuckle. When the light faded and the body grew limp, Cas withdrew the blade swiftly and let the body fall with a thud.

A muffled cry sounded. Cas's body followed the sound with wide strides, his angel blade raised and ready. Sam sat tied to another wooden pillar, bounded by thick ropes and gagged with a dirty piece of cloth tied around his head. His face was beaten and bruised with his long hair sticking to the open cuts and clots of blood.

Cas lowered himself quickly and removed the gag from Sam's mouth.

"Cas, Cas, Cas," Sam said, gasping in pain. "What – what the hell…"

"The place is…  _crawling_  with shapeshifters." Cas stated matter-of-factually, starting to untie the bonds at Sam's legs. "We need to get you out of here." He moved around swiftly to the back of the pillar as he started working on the large knots of rope securing Sam.

"Where- Where's… Dean?"

A familiar pattern of the clicks of a gun cocking were heard. Cas barely had enough time to stand up and move away from the post to get a look of the origin of the sound, when the blast of the gunfire was sounded, ricocheting off of every possible point of the diner.

Cas threw himself from the pillar, behind an overturned table, landing on his side and staying low for cover.

He ducked his head for a good 10 seconds before carefully raising it just a little to look over at Sam. He was motionless with a gaping hole through his head which had flopped to the side, looking away from Cas. The bullet had travelled straight through and left a bloody, soaking hole in the back of his head; the bullet wedged deep into the wood of the beam. Sam was dead.

In a fit of rage, Cas concurrently rose and threw the table in the general direction of the gunshot, his eyes glowing a bright white. It hit the target and threw them against the wall with a slam. Cas marched over, his grip on his blade growing tighter and tighter as he overturned the table with ease, hurling it to the other side of the diner, and grasped the shirt of Dean Winchester.

Dean coughed and winced at Cas's grip, his eyes squeezed shut with the contortion of pain spread across his face.

"Dean?" Cas said in confusion, the bright white light of his eyes dimming immediately. Dean opened his eyes quickly and his face morphed from the expression of shock, confusion, relief then humor.

"Whoa… easy tiger. You know I like it rough but…" Dean spluttered. "We gotta have a safe word."

"But Sam…" Cas ignored Dean's comment and released the firm grip on Dean's shirt. Whilst Cas helped him up, Dean's face dropped and he shook his head as he shifted his weight from Cas's shoulder to his own uneasy feet.

"Shapeshifter. Silver bullet." Dean confirmed, wavering slightly whilst Cas continued to hold him gently. Cas's eyes travelled up and down Dean's battered body as he moved himself in front of Dean and lightly placed a hand onto his cheek.

"Wha-What, are you..." Dean started. The pain vanished. Cas removed his hand and took a respectful step back. Dean smiled softly.

"Thanks, Cas, but… I've had worse." A moment of silence between them reminded them of their goal.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked.

Cas shrugged. But Dean was answered. Several cries of muffled shouting came from behind the counter, behind the door that both Cas and Dean assumed was the kitchen. It was a symphony of banging against the wall, stifled cries and gagged shouting. Dean drew out his blade, ran and slid easily over the top of the counter. Cas followed closely behind; running in between a newly formed gap in the counter. With a kick from Dean fuelled by power and panic, the door swung open.

It was Sam.

And Sam.

And another Sam.

They lay on their sides in the dim light from behind Dean. The rest of the room was cloaked with darkness.

"What the fuck?" Dean spat, flicking on the lights, revealing something Dean could never scrub out of his brain and something he could not comprehend.

Dean stood in shock as around 30 Shapeshifters squirmed and wriggled on the floor, all of which were bound with thick ropes, all of which were sounding his name through their gags of cloth, all of which looked like his brother.

His lip twitched as he looked to Cas, who's face depicted the same horror he held. Cas met his stare. Dean's head spun back to the mass of shapeshifters. His brother was in the somewhere. Fear pricked his heart as he squeezed the handle of the knife between his fist.

_What do we do?_

"Sam?!" Dean cried. "Sammy?"

At that moment, the emergency backdoor slammed open. Dean strode out of the kitchen and stood behind the counter. The door was open, softly tapping against the wall with the rhythm of the breeze. The clouds hung heavier in the sky as lightning cracked through the humidity, lighting up the diner in a flash of white light.

"Dean…" Cas spoke, his voice heavy with warning. Dean glanced at Cas and followed the direction of his finger; towards the emergency door. Then he saw it. In the distance, not too far away, a swarm of shouting, growling, snarling what looked like to be humans were hurtling their way towards the diner.

No.

That wasn't just a human.

Dean's eyes widened as his face dropped and he retreated to stand next to Cas.

That was him.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the diner. Thunder crackled across the sky.

"Cas, we need to find Sam and get the fuck out here…"

Spinning on his heels and running back into the kitchen, Dean came face to face with his brother; standing, smiling. As were the rest of them. Dean instinctively blocked a blow to his head and thrust the silver knife in and out of the Shapeshifter's body with one swift movement. Using the momentum of pushing the body down to launch himself in the opposite direction, he sped out of the kitchen, over the counter and rushed round to grab Cas, who had made his way to the middle of the diner's area, watching the swarm of Shapeshifters coming their way.

"Cas, we gotta go! Now!"

As they made their way to the entrance, another cloud of Dean Doppelgangers seemingly appeared from nowhere and poured through the front door. Dean and Cas just had enough time to dive behind an overturned table in the corner of the diner, next to the entrance.

The Shapeshifters streamed in, through the back door, the front door and the windows, with loud, snarling, inhuman noises roaring from their throats. Thunder continued to crash overhead, making the sounds from the Shapeshifter's all that more hell-like. Dean looked to Cas for answers, who stared intently over the top of the table with a deadpan expression, almost as if he was counting them. But there was something else in his expression that Dean couldn't pinpoint. He looked over the top of the table cautiously, widening his eyes to what he saw.

The Shapeshifters were fighting each other; Dean fighting Dean, Dean fighting Sam, Sam fighting Dean and Sam fighting Sam. Clawing, biting, ripping, punching, kicking, throwing. It was an all out Shapeshifter war.

The sky split and rain came down like a downpour. The monsoon of water poured in sheets of heavy raindrops whilst thunder crashed and lightning flashed.

"Dean." Dean drew his head down and stared at Cas who was crouching now, readying himself for something. Cas spoke quickly. "If the Shapeshifter's that are disguised as Sam are now all free, like we saw, the  _real_  Sam would still be tied up. Wouldn't he?"

Revelation sparked in Dean's eyes.

"He'd still be in there."

Cas nodded, eyes locked onto Dean.

"I'll go." Cas announced. But Dean grasped his arm as Cas rose.

"No.  _I'm_  going. You're staying here. If anything happened to you - "

"Dean…" Cas protested.

"I need you. Here. Go all Raiders of the Lost Ark on their asses and blaze this place up."

Cas paused.

"Raiders of… what?" Cas asked, head tilted to the side.

"Nevermind." Dean sighed. "Just… do the, cool… light, smiting thing when I say, okay?"

"You mean - "

"Yes."

The two stared at each other and Cas nodded with finality.

"Got your blade?" Dean asked.

"Go." Cas instructed.

"I'll be back before you can miss me." Dean said with a wink.

And with that, Dean slid out from safety and sprinted towards the kitchen; in, out and around the chaos of Shapeshifters.  _Thankfully, they were too busy clawing each other's eyes out to notice me,_  Dean thought as he threw himself to the floor and crawled behind the counter, towards the door of the kitchen. He raised himself to a squatting position, pushing his back against the wall and breathing deeply, before he soared from a crouch to a sprint into the kitchen.

Dean had to only dash about for a split second before he spotted Sam, tied against a leg of a large, stainless steel preparation table. His eyes were wild and terrified but relief flooded them as he spotted his brother. Dean ran over to Sam, with an exasperated cry of his name, and cut into his arm with the silver knife. All clear.

"You hang tight, Sammy."

Dean watched as his brother's eyes widened and shifted to stare behind him. A stifled cry came from behind his gag as he squirmed desperately. Immediately, Dean spun round, rose to full height and dodged a piece of wood swung by a Sam Shapeshifter. The two tussled, Dean swinging a few lucky punches into the Shifter's gut as it swung violently, not letting up. Dean rushed back through the kitchen door into the diner, the Shifter following close behind. Dean spotted Cas fighting off 2 Shapeshifters that had his face.

"Now, Cas!" Dean yelled. "Now!"

Glancing at Dean to alert him that he heard, Cas simultaneously, and almost like an elaborate dance, ducked a vicious swing from a Shapeshifter, spun on his heels in a crouching position and slotted his angel blade into his trench coats inner pocket. Ducking an extra punch from a different Shapeshifter, Cas rose sharply and stood with his feet rooted firmly to the spot, arms stretched out either side of him, with his palms facing out and fingers splayed apart.

"Close your eyes!" He roared as his eyes and palms already started illuminating.

Dean threw himself to the ground, covering his ears with his hands and squeezing his eyes shut. He buried his face into the floor as Cas's true form blasted out of every crevice of his body, a beautiful bright white light that incinerated the eyes of those that gazed upon it and a deafening high pitched screech that shredded through the ears, incomprehensible to anyone other than an angel or those worthy.

Within seconds, the light dimmed and the bodies crumpled to the floor with hard thuds; eyes burnt out of their sockets. Cas faltered, his arms hanging heavily by his sides. He dropped his head momentarily, blinking a considerable amount of times as the strong fatigue slowly rid itself from his body.

Dean rose from behind the counter as his eyes skirted across the mass of bodies. He nodded, eyebrows raised, as he sighed.

Cas stared at him.

"Shit. That was fucking  _nuts_." Dean said with a chuckle. Cas smiled and walked over to him slowly.

Within moments, Dean and Cas were around Sam, untying the ropes that bound his legs and arms to the leg of the stainless steel table. The diner was now eerily quiet, with the only sounds being the shuffling of their feet and the rubbing of the ropes.

"What the fuck happened?" Sam asked, his head rest against the wall as he leant himself against it after Dean had helped him to his feet. Sam felt exceedingly weak and his body ached from abuse.

"I haven't a single fucking clue. A Shapeshifter…  _nest_? A  _war_? Hell knows." Dean mumbled, tending to his brother's wounds.

Cas shook his head and shrugged his shoulders as Sam looked to him for an answer.

"We gotta get outta here, let's go." Dean announced, turning to the door.

"Dean." Sam said, pushing himself unsteadily from the wall. Dean stopped and turned to see Sam offering a knife to him. "You haven't done the test yet."

A chuckle escaped through Dean's smiling lips. He looked at Sam expectantly, as if to drop the knife. When he didn't, Dean scoffed through his nose and shifted his weight on his feet. Sam glanced at Cas. Cas nodded.

"Really? I just saved your ass and you're gonna accuse me of being a damn Shapeshifter? Real sweet, Sam."

Sam chuckled in retort and withdrew the knife, pushing it into the belt of his pants. He let his chin drop into his chest and looked up at Dean under his brow.

"I guess you're right."

Cas positioned himself behind Dean, grabbing Dean's left shoulder with his left hand and pulling the angel blade back with his right. Dean whipped round, grabbing Cas's left arm with his right hand and spinning it over himself, punching him first in the stomach and then pushing him down to the ground with immense strength and speed. The angel blade bounced out of Cas's hand onto the floor and Dean lunged for it. He gripped it tight and raised it sharp into the air as he mounted Cas's body, securing the winded angel in place on the floor.

Just as the blade came into the air and was about to strike, a knife struck into Dean's spinal cord. The Shapeshifter's irises flashed yellow as his body went into a spasm, dropping the angel blade as his arms fell slowly to his side. The Shapeshifter looked round to Sam in disbelief. Sam was hunched over on his knees, staring up at him through his curtain of hair over his face, his right arm placed in front of him, supporting his weight. He had thrown the knife with every ounce of energy he had left and had fallen forward.

The Dean Doppelganger fell to the side as Cas pushed the weight off of his body. Reclaiming his blade and raising to his feet, he paced over to Sam and pulled him up, who began explaining what happened.

"I went… to buy some beer, and … the place was run by shifters, the store, I mean. Knocked me out cold and dragged me back here. They somehow managed to get hold of our hair from showers or whatever; they've been tracking us since Dean returned to Purgatory. The… the leader, she, she told me that they wanted to know how to get to," He coughed, "to Purgatory. Said that the shifters wanted to  _rule_  the place or something. Make it a  _heaven for monsters_ sort of thing."

"But what about the fighting?" Cas asked.

"Huh?"

"In there. They were all fighting, against each other."

"Beats me, man." Sam leant heavily on Castiel's shoulder. "Where the hell is Dean, Cas?"

All of a sudden, a loud crash was heard. Sam swiftly pushed himself off of Cas, pulling his gun out from his pants and gripping it tightly with both hands. As he held himself up a little less than steady and aimed for the door to the kitchen, Cas positioned himself close; blade raised, shoulders square and ready to fight.

The pair looked at each other and nodded. They stormed through the door to the diner.

Dean spun around at the sound of footsteps, aiming his gun at Sam and Cas. Sam and Cas stood rooted to the spot until Dean cut into his forearm with the knife, drawing it out almost instinctively as he saw their stone faces. He threw the knife to Sam, who then passed it to Cas.

All clear.

Dean laughed heartily as Sam's brow dropped, eyes widened and lips pursed into that familiar 'Bitch face' that he always called it. He threw out his arms to his side and grinned.

"What'd I miss?"


End file.
